


all the seasons of loving you

by girlmadeofstars



Series: rewrite the stars (you were made to be mine) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Team as Family, Winter Soldier as a Separate Personality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-11 01:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 67,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmadeofstars/pseuds/girlmadeofstars
Summary: Bucky first meets Steve in the Spring. For years afterwards, he'd associated Steve with the smell of fresh-cut grass, with the taste of lemonade, with the feeling of the sun warming your bones after a long winter. The mark on Steve's right wrist matches the soul-mate mark on Bucky's left thigh; further proof that they were meant to be together.Their marks disappear on a Tuesday morning in October. The leaves outside their tent are changing, the ground is covered in reds and golds; Bucky hasn't seen so many colours in months.When he falls from the train, he closes his eyes on a snow covered world. When he opens them again, seventy years later in a government building in Europe, his hand bleeds new reds and golds to match the wrist of the man standing in front of him.(Tony/Bucky soul-mate AU)ON HIATUS WHILE WORKING THROUGH REWRITES.





	1. spring

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is pretty much all Bucky/Steve but this story is Bucky/Tony endgame.

Unlike a lot of people, Bucky didn't have to wait long until he met his soulmate. It was spring, and he was eleven; he was walking home from school when he found some older boys cornering a small blonde kid in an alley. Bucky watched curiously as the younger boy mouthed off to them and got punched in the face for his efforts; he stepped in when it became clear that the boy wasn't about to let this go. Between them (with Bucky’s fists and the other kid’s angry words), they managed to chase the other guys off, and then Bucky shook the hand offered to him afterwards; they both watched as the outline of something small and pointed etched itself into the other boy’s right arm while their hands were still connected. There was still adrenaline pumping its way through Bucky’s veins, but he swore he felt it intensify under the gaze of his new soulmate.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, his smile brighter than anything Bucky had ever seen before. Steve’s eyes were shining with delight as he looked up at Bucky. “Pleased to meet you.”

Bucky had to wait until he got home to check underneath his clothes, but sure enough, he was sporting a matching mark on his left thigh. It looked only half complete, but Bucky's mum had said that was common.  _Sometimes_   _they form along with your relationship_ , she told them both, when Bucky invited Steve over for dinner the next night.  _They'll grow more complete as you do_.  

Bucky remembered feeling a sense of relief; Steve was someone he had liked almost instantly. He had kind eyes and soft hair and angled his test papers just right, so Bucky could copy the answers during spelling tests he hadn’t had a chance to study for. His mum made them lemonade during the spring afternoons after school and their fingers were sticky when Steve gripped his hand underneath the kitchen table. Bucky's mum hadn't found his dad until they were both in their late twenties, and Steve's mum had found his dad only to lose him three years later; Bucky remembered feeling lucky that he'd found Steve so early on, lucky that they would have the rest of their lives to spend together. 

In ninth grade, Steve kissed him for the first time. They spent their afternoons sitting underneath the small apple tree in Bucky's backyard. During the good months, when Bucky managed to earn enough money doing odd jobs around their neighbourhood, Steve spent their afternoons drawing. Bucky saved up for months to buy him some coloured pencils and a pad of thick paper that didn't tear when Steve pressed too hard with the pencil. During the bad months, Bucky draped a tattered sheet over the trees and wrapped Steve up in his jacket and mittens; Steve always looked smaller, more vulnerable during the winter months. His skin paled from lack of sunlight and sometimes Bucky worried that he might blow away if a really strong gust of wind hit him. On the afternoons that Steve was well enough to spend time outside, Bucky read aloud from books they'd already read ten times over and stole medicine for Steve when he had to, but Steve still looked at Bucky like he was personally responsible for hanging the stars in the sky. 

They're seventeen when Steve's mother first falls ill, and it's just after Steve's eighteenth birthday when she finally passes on. Steve withdraws into himself, after that, and becomes someone Bucky doesn't remember knowing. He travels from city to city, lying on one admission paper after another. 

One day, Bucky comes home after work to find Steve sitting under the apple tree in his backyard. It’s long since stopped blooming, but the sun casts beautiful shadows of the empty branches onto Steve’s gaunt face.

“Hey,” Steve says, when he notices Bucky. He smiles at Bucky like he hasn’t been gone for months.

“Hey,” Bucky replies, like he hasn’t spent days and nights worrying about Steve,  _missing_ Steve.

“I missed you,” Steve says, after Bucky sits down next to him.  _Did you?_ Bucky thinks. He doesn’t say it, but Steve frowns at him like he knows anyway.

“Sometimes,” Bucky starts, his voice cracking. His hands are shaking slightly as he pulls some grass out of the ground to distract himself. If Steve notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Sometimes I think you might just blind me if I look at you for too long. You’re like the sun, Stevie. You give life to everything you touch.” Steve smiles at that, his face lighting up the way it used to when he looked at Bucky. “But I worry that you’ll burn me if I get too close.”

Steve’s smile dims, slightly, and he’s gone by the time Bucky raises his eyes from the ground.

They spend the next few years hovering around each other; Steve falls asleep in Bucky's bed when he's home, but every time Bucky wakes up in the morning, he's gone, and the other side of the bed is cold. Bucky finds that Steve has changed, since he lost his mother. He’s colder, and more stubborn, which Bucky didn’t think was possible. He checks his mark pretty regularly, thinking that surely it would shift into something different to match their changing relationship.

It doesn’t change, and Bucky starts to think that he’ll never have more than a half-finished mark etched into his skin. He thinks it's a metaphor for his relationship with Steve, sometimes. It feels like they're not quite finished, like there's still something wrong with their relationship. 

Bucky spends most of his free time at the state library, researching soulmates. A lot of doctors and professors have different theories on why they get their marks, on why they grow and change and sometimes even disappear. Bucky reads every book he can get his hands on, scouring them all for some reason as to why he and Steve are drifting apart, why they aren't settling down like all of their friends are. 

He reads so many books that all the words start to blur together, after awhile. When he gets home, he can barely keep track of Rebecca's hands as she signs hello to him. He crawls into her bed, and she slowly and carefully signs to him about her day; she's been watching their younger siblings while Bucky and his mum spend their days working.

"Thomas and Mary are really enjoying school," she signs. Bucky, usually very capable of watching both her hands and her face while she talks, can barely focus on her fingers as they slowly sound out each word. "It'd be really nice if you could help them with their science project next week, they would really benefit from that."

"Maybe," he signs back, clumsily. She wraps one of her arms around him, and leans down to kiss his forehead softly. 

"He'll come back to you," she signs, one handed. It's messy, but Bucky gets the gist enough anyway. "He always does."

"I wish he'd just stay," Bucky replies, and Rebecca sighs. He knows that she's growing to dislike Steve the longer he stays away. With every night Bucky spends curled up around her in her small twin bed instead of in his own, he knows her opinion of Steve is dropping. He can't find it in himself to try and repair it, though. He wonders what that means, if anything. His biggest wish for a soulmate used to be that they'd get along with his family, that they'd treat his three younger siblings like their own. He's starting to think he'll be lucky if Rebecca even lets Steve back in their house after this. 

Rebecca's there the day he gets enlisted into the army, and her face pales when Mary painstakingly translates for her. "No," she says and signs at the same time. "No," she repeats, her hands shaking. "You can't leave us, Jamey, _no_."

She's crying, and the twins are looking between them, confusion etched into their little faces. Bucky can only think of Steve, and how this news will affect their relationship. He's become an awful brother, but from the way Rebecca, Mary and Thomas grip onto him, he thinks he might be forgiven anyway.

The next time Steve comes home, Bucky finds himself convincing Steve that his enlistment is a good thing.

"I'll earn enough money to send it back to you," he tells him. "You'll be able to get all the medication you need, and the war will be over soon anyway, that's what everybody is saying. By the time I get back, you'll be well enough to work as well. We'll have a house in no time. It'll be easy, Steve."

But as long as Bucky has known him, Steve has never taken the easy way out. 

#

They turn twenty-three and twenty-five and twenty-seven and Bucky's unit is captured by the Germans and Steve manages to triple in size, somehow, and rescue him and another few hundred men while barely even breaking a sweat. When they get back to Steve's camp, Bucky drags him inside their tent among wolf-whistles and laughter from the other soldiers. He spends a few hours re-learning Steve's body, and when they emerge, Bucky's covered in bruises, but Steve's skin is smooth and clear of any marks despite Bucky's best efforts.

They get sent on mission after mission, and after each one is finished, Bucky crawls into Steve's sleeping bag and they sleep, wrapped up in each other. They've been together for over half their lives, now, and still their marks haven't finished developing. Steve checks his every morning, swinging himself over the bed to sit on the edge and roll up his sleeve and stare at the small, unfinished mark on his arm. 

"Does it really matter if they never resemble anything?" Bucky asks, one day. He stopped checking his mark years ago, stopped hoping for it to change or grow. He'd fallen in love with Steve before he even knew it was happening, just woken up one morning and looked at Steve on the other side of their shared tent, sleeping soundly and thought  _oh, that's right;_   _I'm in love with you._ The marks don't really bother Bucky, not anymore. What he and Steve have is enough. Their love for each other goes beyond a mark that might never finish etching itself into their skin. But lately, that doesn't seem to be enough for Steve. He's been withdrawing into himself again, just like he did after his mother passed on. 

"I wonder if it's because of the war," is Steve's response. He's absentmindedly running his fingers over his mark; his movements are soft, and gentle. Bucky remembers when he used to touch Steve with the same hesitancy, always worried the wrong move could bruise him, could break him apart. He remembers how Steve used to touch him with nimble fingers, fingers that could only belong to an artist. He used to touch Bucky like he was something soft, something breakable, something he didn't  _want_ to break. 

They're not careful with each other, not anymore. "Maybe they won't finish developing until we're more stable, more settled. That's what your mum said, right? That they grew along with our relationship?" Bucky nods, and Steve smiles at him. When Steve smiles, Bucky feels like someone has turned the sun up to full brightness and pointed it right at him. When Steve smiles, Bucky thinks that he would burn the whole world down, if it would make Steve happy. "Maybe when we get home, they'll finish themselves. Then we'll know for sure."

"I love you," Bucky tells him. Steve smiles at him again, but it's not as bright as it usually is. Bucky remembers when Steve smiled at him like he hung the moon, hung the stars. Bucky remember when Steve smiled, and it felt like sunlight shining down on him. It doesn't feel that way anymore. "I love you, Steve. Isn't that enough?"

“It should be enough,” Steve says. His lips were pursed, and he refused to meet Bucky's eye. “To love someone and have someone love you in return, it should be enough. It isn’t, but it should be.”

Steve rolls his sleeve back down, and lies down, flipping over so he's not facing Bucky anymore. He falls back to sleep within minutes, but Bucky lies awake for hours afterwards. 

The thing is, Bucky already knows for sure. Steve might not be perfect, and sometimes Bucky wants to tear his hair out because Steve is so  _frustrating_ , but Bucky loves him more than he's ever loved anything. There's a mark on his left thigh that matches Steve's right arm exactly, a mark that  _proves_ that they're meant to be together. Bucky has known this since the first time they met, Steve standing up to continue fighting when he should have just stayed down. Bucky has known this since they were thirteen and Steve was leaning in for the first time, eyes on Bucky's lips as he slowly closed the gap between them. Steve tasted like apples and bravery, Steve smelled like spring, like fresh-cut grass and lemonade. Bucky remembers that was the moment he knew he would do anything for him, be anything for him. 

Afterwards, Steve had smiled shyly at him, lips red and swollen from their kiss. "I'm glad it's you, Buck," he said, nestling his head on Bucky's shoulder. He was small, and vulnerable, and Bucky loved him more than anything. 

Bucky wonders when Steve stopped being sure about them. Bucky wonders if he ever was.

#

If Steve was like spring, he was all of it; he was warm days, but he was also sticky nights, he was cool lemonade, but he was also melted ice cream dripping on the ground. Steve was like a flower, blooming with the sun, and closing up again if you got too close. 

One night, Bucky looks over at Steve, sleeping next to him, and wonders if this will be the rest of his life. Wonders if in five years, in ten, twenty, they'll still be here, in a cramped tent, fighting in a war Bucky never wanted to be a part of. Steve has never met a fight he didn't want to have, but Bucky has never wanted to fight. But loving Steve has made Bucky question everything about himself, because loving Steve tends to make you do things you wouldn't usually, loving Steve makes the idea of compromise into something unattainable.

When they were fourteen, and the mark on Bucky's thigh was still relatively new, still somewhat exciting, Bucky used to think that loving Steve was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, or ever would again. He used to love how Steve stood his ground, even when the end result was always the same; him on the ground, bleeding but proud. Bruised, but getting up again. 

When Bucky was even younger, back before Steve, he and his younger sister used to talk about what they wanted in a soulmate. Rebecca wanted someone kind, who would be nice to her family, who would understand that Rebecca would never love anyone as much as she loved Bucky, and their younger twins. She wanted someone who wouldn’t care that she was deaf, wanted someone who would love her  _because_ she was different. She'd always ask what Bucky pictured, when he thought of his soul mate; the answers varied, depending on the day.

He wanted someone smart- no, he wanted someone who  _wanted_ to be smart, someone who wanted to grow and change and build the world into something better. He wanted someone caring, someone who could make Bucky feel rich even on days when he had to go without meals, so his younger siblings wouldn't have to. He wanted someone who would love him and let themselves be loved in return. 

But Bucky never wanted to love someone so stubborn, so headstrong. He wanted someone fun and smart and kind. He wanted someone who could hold their ground in a fight, but who also knew when it was okay to walk away from one.

Bucky wonders when he stopped thinking about what he wanted from a soulmate, from someone he was to spend the rest of his life with. He wonders when he stopped wanting and started just accepting. 

#

Peggy Carter turns Bucky's entire world around. He'd never heard of a woman on the battlefield before, but if someone had to be the first, it makes sense that it's Peggy. She's tough and smart and more than capable of holding her ground. He tries to open a door for her once, and the look she gives him is enough for him to never try again. Bucky's a little bit enamoured with her, but then all of the men in their unit are. She's kind and capable, and it's no wonder that Steve starts spending more and more time with her. 

Every night Steve comes home from another dinner or another meeting with her, Bucky drags him to bed and undresses him with the pretence of loving him. He runs his hands and his eyes over every square inch of Steve's body, searching for marks that don't belong to him. The mark on Steve's arm is still there, still unfinished and small and identical to Bucky's. Bucky sinks his teeth into Steve's skin, trying to leave more marks on him, trying to prove that they belong together, that Steve is  _his_.

Steve heals absurdly quickly, ever since the serum, and he falls asleep within minutes of him and Bucky finishing. Bucky watches as all the bruises, all the teeth marks, all the proof of their love vanishes from Steve's skin as he sleeps. 

#

His entire world shatters on a Tuesday morning in October. The leaves outside their tent are changing, the ground is covered in reds and golds; Bucky hasn't seen so many colours in months. Steve's favourite season has always been winter; he likes the way the snow falls to the ground, he likes warm drinks and the way his breath turns white when it hits cold air. Winter makes Bucky feel like he's suffocating in a world of white. Bucky spends the entirety of autumn dreading the coming winter. Steve spends the autumn months waiting for a whiter, colder world. 

Steve's changing into his Captain America uniform for a press release; something looks slightly off, and Bucky's spent the few minutes since they woke trying to figure it out, but it's not until Steve moves just right and the light catches his arm properly that Bucky realises.

"Shit," he swears, stumbling back against the wall like Steve is a rapid animal he needs to get away from. "No, this can't be happening, no."

Steve's shoulder tenses, and his eyes are darting around the room, looking for the threat, looking for what's made Bucky look so terrified. "Buck, what is it?" He asks, when it becomes clear that their room hasn't been invaded, that they're not at risk.

"No, you're  _mine_ ," Bucky says, pulling down his pants in an effort to contradict what he already knows his happening. His left thigh is completely bare, the small mark that Bucky was  _sure_  was developing into a bullet having disappeared completely. His skin is smooth, and clear, and there's no trace of the mark ever having been there. 

"Oh," Steve whispers, looking down at his now blank arm. Bucky launches himself forward, pulling at Steve's uniform to search his body for another mark. Steve's pulling at his clothing just as frantically as Bucky is, but his skin is smooth, and clear of any marks, new or old. His body shows no trace that he ever belonged to Bucky, that there was ever something between them.

"This doesn't mean anything, Stevie, it's always been us, this is a  _mistake_ , we just have to wait it out," he pleads, but the thing is, he knows Steve. Probably better than Steve knows himself, some days. Steve believes in right and wrong and black and white and he's never done anything halfway in his life. 

"Bucky..." Steve starts, but Bucky knows he's lost him just by the way Steve says his name, his voice laced with pity and regret. "Don't we- Buck, we owe ourselves the chance to meet our true soul-mates, if- if we're not each other’s anymore."

Steve's already halfway out the door, Bucky can practically feel him vibrating with energy. "Steve, this is just a mistake, or a glitch. It's been you and me for years, don't we owe it to each other to at least  _try_? Maybe this is our marks developing, maybe it's just changing into something else. Steve, this doesn't mean anything, this doesn't have to change anything."

"Fate is never wrong, Bucky," Steve says, looking pained. "Our marks are gone, which means something must have changed. You're still my best friend, Buck, but now there's someone out there made just for you. Don't you want to find out who that is?"

Bucky doesn't have the words to tell Steve that he's already found the person made just for him, but Steve looks at him like he knows anyway. He reaches out and grips Bucky's hand in his, squeezing once, twice, three times. He's telling Bucky he loves him, but somehow it just sounds like goodbye. 

#

Bucky spends the next few months falling in and out of different beds. He sleeps with all sorts of girls; girls with half-completed marks, girls with no marks, girls with covered up marks. One night, a man with brown skin and brown eyes is smiling at him from across the bar; he looks nothing like Steve, and that's enough for Bucky to want to take him home and bury himself inside him. 

His name is Johnathan, and he smirks when Bucky tells him he’s a soldier. “I knew I recognised you from those little Captain America films,” he says, sipping his drink. Bucky feels his entire body tense at the words. “You friends with Rogers, then?”

Bucky snorts. “Something like that,” he says. Johnathon smiles and his eyes crinkle the same way Steve's used to. Bucky barely makes it to the bathroom before he's emptying his stomach; he ends up going home alone and avoids Steve for the next week.

Bucky keeps as much of his skin covered as he can, and keeps his eyes closed when he showers or changes. He doesn't want a mark if it's not for Steve. Doesn't want a mark that isn't also etched into Steve's skin. 

He goes back to the war; sometimes he thinks fighting and loss and violence will be the only things he'll ever know. The only time he feels any sort of happiness, any sense of normalcy, is when he reads the letters his siblings send him. Rebecca writes of a boy with green eyes and black hair named Henry who is learning sign language just for her. When he bumped into Rebecca at the cinema, an anchor etched itself onto his right cheek. Rebecca writes that rope wrapped itself around her left wrist instantly;  _he's kind and he makes me laugh. He brings the twins sweets when he can afford it and takes them to the playground when he can't. H_ _e's the one for me, I just know it. But, more importantly, I'm the one for him._

Bucky marvels at her confidence; Rebecca is a lot like Steve, in some ways. If she decides to do something, she jumps all in and does it with her entire heart and soul. Bucky hopes to god this relationship works out for her, hopes that she's right when she says that Henry loves her more than anything. 

Bucky writes to his siblings as he watches his friends die, watches his country fall apart, watches Steve and Peggy dance around each other, watches as a bright orange and yellow lion appears on Steve's chest, not there one day and then bright and bold and big the next, watches as the same mark grows on Peggy's ankle, slowly and carefully. Bucky's used to losing people, by now, but somehow having Steve without actually  _having_ him makes him feel empty in a way he hasn't experienced before. 

When they’re in meetings, or interviews with the press, nobody even mentions him in the same breath as Steve anymore.  _SteveandBucky_ was more than half Bucky’s life, and now it’s like it just flew somewhere, one day. He wonders if it’s maybe halfway between Germany and Brooklyn, or something. Everyone else seems to have moved on; losing a soulmate this way isn’t exactly uncommon, of course. But there isn’t a single part of Bucky’s life that isn’t somehow covered in Steve, and it stings too much for Bucky to forget, to move on.

One night, Steve disappears after dinner and returns hours later with his lips stained red from Peggy's lipstick. Bucky remembers when Steve was small and easily bruised, and his lips reddened in the same way after mornings spent underneath the apple tree in Bucky's backyard. 

"I'm going to ask her to marry me," Steve tells him, the next morning. Bucky's so startled that he loses grip on his cup of coffee, and he and Steve both watch as it falls to the ground and shatters. Bucky stares at the broken pieces of glass on the floor, and wonders if that's what his heart looks like in his chest. Every time he breathes it feels like something sharp is puncturing his lungs. Every time he looks at Steve he feels like the broken pieces of his heart are shattering all over again. "I want you to be my best man," Steve tells him, after a long moment of silence. Bucky can't draw his eyes away from the shattered cup on the ground, but he can feel Steve looking at him anyway. "I miss you, Buck. I miss my best friend."

Bucky finally looks up to meet Steve's eyes, and Steve flinches. Bucky wonders what he looks like, to cause that reaction. Wonders if Steve can tell just how broken he is from the look in his eyes.

The thing is, Bucky knows what Steve wants from him. He wants forgiveness, and he wants to be absolved of anything he might have done to hurt Bucky. Bucky can't look at him, can hardly speak. They both know how this will go. Steve will say  _I'm sorry_ and Bucky will say  _I know_ and it will all be okay until it isn't, until Steve cracks open Bucky's chest and reaches in to shatter his heart all over again. Steve tells him  _I'll do anything for you, you're my best friend_ , but he never comes through. Steve reaches out and rests a hand on Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky has to resist shrugging it off, has to resist wincing like Steve's stabbed him. Steve moves his hand anyway, and Bucky looks down at his skin, where Steve's hand just was, looking for a mark, or a bruise. Steve smiles softly, hesitantly, and Bucky has to resist searching his body to see what else Steve has taken from him, this time. 

Bucky knows what Steve wants from him. Steve wants him to say  _congratulations_ , wants him to say  _I'm happy for you_ , wants him to say  _I forgive you_. Bucky tries, but he chokes on the words. Steve tells him  _I love you_ like it's what Bucky wants to hear, like he hasn't said the same three words a thousand times in a different context. Bucky doesn't know anything about love, not anymore, but he knows that if Steve loves him, it's not in any way that he understands. 

"I'd be honoured," Bucky says, when he's sure he can speak without his voice breaking, without choking on the words, without his heart shattering in his chest all over again. "I've gotta go, I've got a meeting with Colonel Phillips. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Steve nods his head slowly and looks pained as Bucky walks away from him. But when Bucky turns back, Steve's already gone. 

# 

When Steve asks him to follow him on another mission, risking their lives for the millionth time, Bucky doesn't even hesitate. Steve hasn't been his for months now (for years, if Bucky's honest with himself) but Bucky would still follow him to the ends of the earth, if he asked. 

He thinks that’s half their problem; Steve is always asking, and Bucky can't say no, can't help but follow Steve wherever he wants. The other week he visited one of his friends in the hospital and learnt that some soldiers who lost limbs in action still felt them there, still ached and bled even though there was nothing but empty space. The left side of Bucky's bed aches so badly that he can hardly sleep, most nights. When Steve had walked out of his life, he'd left a giant hole behind, and Bucky's starting to think that nothing could ever fill it, starting to think that he won't  _let_ anything, or anyone fill it. 

Steve seems happier, now. He shines so brightly with Peggy by his side; Bucky never even realised he was merely a shadow of himself, before. When Steve looks at Peggy, Bucky tries not to compare it with how Steve used to look at him; he fails miserably. When they were younger, Steve looked at Bucky like he hung the sun in the sky. Steve looks at Peggy like she  _is_ the sun, like she's the brightest thing he's ever seen, like she gives him life with every breath she takes. 

Steve kisses Peggy goodbye before they leave with the other Howling Commandos, and Morita claps a hand on Bucky's shoulder when he winces at the sight. Steve straps his shield to his back, then he heads out of the room; after a second, Bucky follows him. (For as long as he lives, he finds that he’ll always be half a step behind Steve)

When Bucky falls from the train, he closes his eyes on a snow-covered world. Steve's tortured cry of  _Bucky!_ is ringing in his ears, and Bucky thinks that all in all, this isn't the worst way he could have gone.


	2. summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story doesn't exactly follow canon after midway through Captain America: Civil War. I'm completely ignoring Infinity War because I started writing this before the movie was released and I don't want to tie it in, but I'm also tweaking the storyline in regards to Thor: Ragnorok, Spiderman: Homecoming, Ant-Man and the Wasp and the end credits scene in Black Panther. Basically my loose theory is that everything in these movies still happened, just slightly different as the events of Civil War didn't happen. 
> 
> I also realise that this chapter (and the previous one) are coming across very Anti-Steve (and Anti-Wanda, in a small part) but I want to stress that Bucky and Steve will reconcile eventually. They've both just gotta work through a few things before that can happen.
> 
> This chapter is still Bucky heavy, but the next two have a lot more Tony in them!

Bucky had closed his eyes on a snow covered world at war in 1945, and opens them again seven decades later to Tony Stark sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of him, talking in rapid bursts on his phone. It takes him a moment to realise Bucky's awoken, but he ends his call immediately after he notices.

Steve and his friend with the wings are in the next room over; Bucky can hear them arguing in whispers. Natasha Romanoff is watching him with a blank face, leaning casually against the door frame. 

"That's... interesting," Tony says, frowning at Bucky's wrist- his real wrist, his skin and bone wrist. Bucky's used to scientists and doctors and handlers studying his metal arm, but nobody has payed attention to his other arm in years. Bucky takes a second to flex the fingers on his metal arm; they've strapped him up pretty well, but he figures he'd be able to break out of this if he had to. "Did I just imagine my gauntlet on his wrist? It was there before, wasn't it?" Tony asks, talking over his shoulder. Natasha, behind him, just shrugs. 

"I- it was red, and gold," Bucky remembers, frowning as he tries to piece together what happened before he passed out. It's odd- the memory of the red and golds bleeding all over his wrist is faint, almost tinged with the knowledge that it wasn't  _his_ memory. "What happened?"

Tony grins at him. "I'm not known for my subtly," he agrees, and Natasha smirks behind him.

"Someone triggered you," Natasha explains. "You tried to escape; on his commands, we assume. Sharon and I managed to slow you down, and then when Tony got involved, the mark appeared on your wrist. You seemed... shocked, by it, and Tony was able to knock you out."

"It's gone now though. I've never heard of that happening before, not so quickly after meeting. Friday, pull up some research relating to this, if you'd please," Tony says. 

Bucky looks around, but aside from Natasha in the doorway, Steve and his friend in the next room over, and another man hovering in the hallway, Bucky can't hear or see anybody else. "Who's Friday?" He asks and Tony pauses for a second before reaching into his pocket. Bucky tenses instantly, and Tony freezes.

"Whoa, big guy, I'm just answering your question, alright? No need to soldier up on me so quickly, okay, I'll go slowly." Bucky doesn't relax, but Tony seems to take his lack of movement as a concession, and pulls his hand back out of his pocket slowly. "Put this in your ear," he says, reaching his hand out to Bucky. There's a small black device in his hand, and Bucky just stares at it, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm just answering your question," Tony says, his hand still between them. "Friday is an A.I., like- she's like a computer, kind of, but she can speak to you. If you put this in your ear, you can hear her." Bucky blinks at him, and doesn't move to take the earpiece. "I doubt you'd have seen this technology yet, I can understand if it's a bit daunting, maybe we'll start with a microwave and work our way up."

"I know how microwaves work," Bucky replies, offended.

Tony just shrugs. "They were invented the year after you didn't die; Steve hadn't seen one when he woke, I figured you'd be the same."

"Steve was frozen solid in the middle of the ocean for seventy years straight," Bucky counters. "I was defrosted every now and then."

Tony snorts out a laugh as Steve walks in the room, and Bucky watches curiously as Tony freezes with Steve's presence. "You're awake," Steve says, his voice light with happiness. Bucky just stares at him silently. "Oh, Buck, you had us so worried. Everything's going to be alright now, though, we'll take care of everything." He seems to notice that Bucky's still strapped up, and turns to frown disapprovingly at Tony. "Surely we can let him go now, he's not dangerous anymore."

Natasha rolls her eyes behind Steve's back, but her voice is kind when she talks. "Steve, someone snuck in and said a handful of Russian words that turned him back into the Winter Soldier. We can't take any risks here."

"That's-"

"She's right, Steve, I need to be contained," Bucky interrupts. Steve stills looks suspiciously at Tony, who just fiddles with his phone under the weight of Steve's gaze. "Where's the psychologist? You've caught him, right?" Bucky asks, changing the subject. The man who had entered the room behind Steve and his friend nods approvingly. 

Steve shakes his head; there's a frustrated crinkle between his eyebrows. Bucky's more than used to causing that particular look on Steve's face. "No, he got away during all of the... confusion. I need to know what he wanted from you, Buck. He went to an awful lot of trouble to draw you out."

Bucky frowns in concentration as he tries to remember. "He... he wanted to know about Siberia, about where I'd been kept. He wanted a mission report. He wanted... December 16th, 1991," he recalls, and Tony drops his phone in shock. 

Bucky watches as Steve, Natasha, and the man behind them all tense as Tony stares at Bucky. "Why that date?" Tony chokes out. " _What did you do on December 16th 1991_?"

Bucky feels his heart sink as he puts the pieces together. He has a flash of Howard Stark- Stark after Bucky knew him, Stark with white hair and wrinkled skin- looking at him with shock, uttering a name Bucky hadn't heard in years, in decades. "I... the Soldier...  _we_  were ordered-"

"Buck, no," Steve interrupts, stepping in between Tony and Bucky. Steve's friend- Sam, Bucky recalls- is resting his hand on the gun holstered at his thigh, and Natasha stands up straighter, resting on the balls of her feet, ready to jump in at a seconds notice. The man standing in the back of the room looks ready to knock all three of them to the ground if Tony so must as hints he wants it to happen; Bucky deduces that he must be a friend of Tony's, to react like he has. "Tony, we can talk about this later, it's not the pressing issue at the moment. Buck,  _why_ did he want that mission report?"

Bucky falters before the memory comes back to him. "There are others," he says, and Steve's eyes widen. "I'm not the only Winter Soldier." Natasha and Sam both start at this information, but Bucky can't take his eyes off of Tony. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry, I didn't want to, I- Howard was my  _friend_ , I swear I didn't want to do it, I'm sorry."

Tony's chest heaves once, twice. Almost a minute passes before Bucky sees him release his breath; the man standing in the back of the room has edged his way closer to Tony, ready to jump in if Tony needs, and if Bucky wasn't strapped up, he thinks he might have reacted like Tony's friend as well. "Did you know?" Tony says, dragging his eyes away from Bucky to fix an unforgiving gaze on Steve, who shakes his head unconvincingly. "Don't bullshit me, Rogers,  _did you know_?"

To everybody else, Steve probably looks heartless, in this moment. To Bucky, he looks like a soldier, like a Captain during a War, forced to compartmentalise, forced to forget the small things and focus on the bigger picture. His intentions are good, maybe, but Bucky knows that intentions don't always count. "I didn't know it was him," Steve lies, and Tony looks like his entire chest has just caved in on him, looks like his world has just been shattered beyond repair. Bucky's used to feeling that particular emotion in response to something Steve Rogers has done; at least he and Tony have something in common. 

"I'm not sure if you've noticed," Tony spits out, lifting himself up into a standing position. "But I'm not an idiot." He turns to Bucky, and Bucky wonders if everybody else can see the effort it's taking him to not launch himself at Steve. He notices Natasha's tense shoulders, notices that Tony's friend hasn't taken his eyes off of Tony for even a second, and figures at least they can see. "Friday's finished scanning you," Tony tells Bucky, completely turning himself away from Steve. "You've got some sort of mark on your chest, or so she tells me. Looks like it appeared when you woke and the other one vanished. There's also a mark behind your right ear that seems to have appeared back when you were in soldier mode; that one's still there."

Bucky blinks at him. "I- that's what you're going to say? I just told you-"

"I know that HYDRA was controlling you," Tony interrupts him. "I know that you weren't keeping this from me on purpose, I know that you didn't choose this." Bucky blinks at him again. "I also know that there's a mark on your chest, and I'm dying to see what it is. If you'll let me, of course."

"I... sure, whatever you want," Bucky says, after a long moment. Tony's shocked him into silence. Steve too, by the looks of it. Everyone in the room, actually, has barely breathed in the past few minutes. Bucky himself thinks that he might have passed out from lack of air, if it wasn't for the serum pumping through his veins. 

"I'm gonna need more than that," Tony says, after a moment. Bucky's eyebrows draw inwards in confusion, and Tony elaborates. "I've read some of your files; I'm normally pretty big on consent anyway, but I'm not about to go and make any more decisions for you, not in your current state."

Bucky blinks at him, shocked. Looking around the room, Steve and Sam appear to be the only ones as surprised at Tony's comment as he is. Natasha and Tony's friend are too busy keeping their eyes locked on Bucky. "I... it's okay, I want to see it too," Bucky eventually says. He's surprised to find out that he actually _means_ it; there was once a time where Bucky thought he'd die if another mark appeared on his skin, a mark not for Steve. It's been decades, but he still remembers changing with his eyes closed, showering in the dark. Bucky briefly wonders if the lion is still inked into Steve's chest, but he finds that he's more intrigued by the mark on his own chest. It's a nice surprise, Bucky thinks, to find that he can wonder about Peggy without feeling like his chest is caving in at the thought of Steve with someone else, of Steve loving someone who wasn't him. 

"Alright, I'm gonna walk over to you now and unbutton your shirt, okay, so don't go soldiering up on me," Tony says, stepping forwards slowly, giving Bucky the opportunity to change his mind. He doesn't. Tony's fingers are quick and gentle as he unbuttons Bucky's shirt, and they only shake slightly when they're brushed up against Bucky's skin. Tony pulls his shirt open, and they both look down at the bright blue circle that's now etched into Bucky's chest. Tony steps back, his hand reaching up to his own chest. 

"I'm not sure what this is meant to be," Bucky says, frowning. It's not like any mark he's ever seen before. There's little blue lines wiggling out from the blue circle, looking like veins. The mark almost looks like it's glowing, like it's lit up like some sort of light. It's pulsing, growing brighter with every beat of Bucky's heart. It's beautiful, even if Bucky doesn't understand it.

"It's an arc reactor," Tony's friend replies, when it becomes clear that Tony isn't going to. 

"When did that appear?" Steve asks, frowning as his head turns between Bucky and Tony. "Tony, why did you have Friday scan him?"

Bucky looks at Tony, who just stares back at him. "A mark appeared on Barnes' hand when Tony was fighting him earlier," Natasha fills in, looking between them with a confused look in her eyes. "It vanished when he woke up, and I suppose this one appeared in it's place."

"You- you and  _Tony_?" Steve asks. His eyes are snapping between them, and his mouth is curled in a frown. Bucky's memories are still fuzzy, floating around his head in pieces, in flashes. His memories of Steve are tinged with a lot of sadness, a lot of anger. He vaguely remembers a time in which he would have done anything for Steve to look at him with this kind of pain in his eyes, this kind of loss and longing that only comes with loving someone. Seven decades of hijacking have left him unable to wish for that, anymore. "What's the mark under your ear? How come you had a different one before? How come you have  _two_ marks for him?"

Bucky shrugs. "I just woke up," he tells Steve, voice quiet. "How am I meant to know?" Bucky vaguely remembers reacting in this exact way when he found out that Peggy and Steve were developing marks for each other. He remembers how losing Steve had shocked his entire world, how watching as Steve fell in love with someone who wasn't him had destroyed him. Steve's looking at him with a whole lot of hurt and anger burning behind his eyes, but he's not looking the way Bucky did seventy years ago. He doesn't look like his entire world has just burnt down in front of his eyes, and that's how Bucky comes to the realisation that he and Steve are really, truly over. He feels lighter at this thought, feels like the weight he's been carrying around since meeting Steve has dropped. 

"The mark behind his ear appears to be a leaf," Natasha says, peering at his neck. Tony looks surprised to see her this close to them, but Bucky had watched her move through the corner of his eye; she's sneaky, but he's pretty sure he could outmatch her if he had to. "It's quite small, just a little outline, really."

"So who's that one for?" Sam asks. He's finally dropped his hand from his gun. "The arc reactor's for Stark, right? That one's obvious. I didn't know you could have two marks, two  _soulmates_ , though." Bucky wonders  _why_ it's obvious, but nobody else seems as confused as he is, so he keeps his questions to himself. Natasha subtly nods at him like she might explain later and that's enough for Bucky, for now. 

"It's not entirely unheard of," Natasha responds, shrugging. 

"Wait, do you have a mark for Bucky?" Steve asks, turning to Tony, who shrugs. 

"I haven't exactly done a full body check yet," Tony replies, but Bucky watches as his hand comes up and rubs his neck; it's the same spot where a small leaf is now tattooed into Bucky's skin. 

Bucky scowls at Steve, drawing his attention away from Tony. "It's not your business anyway, Steve. Stop being nosy."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Not my business? Bucky, you're my best friend, my soul mate. Of  _course_ you're my business!"

"My memory is pretty much shot to shit but I distinctly remember us  _not_  being soul mates, actually. Also, I read in a museum that you and Agent Carter had matching marks, after us, so don't go pulling that card out now," Bucky retorts, and Steve steps back as if he'd just been hit. 

"Listen, we need to figure out what we're going to do about the other super soldiers," Tony's friend says, coming up behind Tony slowly and resting a hand on his shoulder. Tony sways slightly but seems to collect himself under his friends touch. "We can't let this guy use the other soldiers. Can you remember where you were held, remember how to get in?"

Bucky thinks about it for a second, and then nods slowly. "I can get us there, I can get us inside."

"How many other soldiers are there?" Natasha asks. Tony's typing away on his phone; his face is blue in the light, matching the new mark on Bucky's chest.

"There's five," Bucky answers. "They should all be frozen, at the moment. I doubt anyone would have been up there since you took down HYDRA."

"He wants to wake them," Tony's friend says, shocked. "Jesus, what the hell does he want to use them for?"

Tony slides his phone in his pocket. "We'll ask him when we catch him. Romonoff, get Barnes out of that thing, we're going to need him."

"Like hell you will," Steve says, putting himself in between Bucky and Natasha, who just raises an eyebrow at him. Steve is twice Natasha's size, but Bucky has no doubt in his mind who would win that particular fight. "Bucky's not going anywhere, not with you."

Tony just stares at Steve. "You do realise that you're under arrest, right Rogers? That you're only here because Nat, Rhodey and I vouched for you? Because we lied and said we needed extra strength to ensure we could keep Barnes contained? You're out, Rogers, you and Wilson both. You're only here because we thought you'd be the best person for Barnes to wake up to, and now that he's awake and somewhat okay, we're going to let him lead us to the bunker in Siberia, where Nat, Rhodey, Vision and I will enter and he will head home on a jet piloted by Friday." Steve bristles at this, and Bucky exchanges a  _look_ with Natasha.

"Are you even allowed to go?" Steve spits out, his face lined with anger.

Tony blinks at him, incredulous. “You really didn’t read them, did you? I can’t believe you’re this against something that you don’t even understand. Jesus, Rogers.”

"Siberia is in one of the countries who have signed the Accords," Natasha says, before Steve can respond. "That means we’re allowed access as long as we inform the appropriate authorities as soon as possible. The Accords leave a lot of wiggle room for us, Steve."

"Bucky hasn't signed them, he shouldn't be allowed to go," Steve argues. Considering he'd been more than happy to break the rules just a few hours ago, Bucky thinks it's pretty funny that he's arguing  _for_ them now. 

"Steve, stand down," Natasha says, sliding in between Tony and Steve, placing a calming hand over Steve's chest. "I'll make sure Barnes is okay, alright? He's just going to take us to the bunker, and show us how to go in, and then he'll be sent right back to you, okay? He doesn't need to sign the accords for that, not if he's not involved in actual fighting. We can talk Ross into letting you go back to the compound, for now, and you and Wilson can wait for him there."

"Hell of a lot better than the jail cell you should be heading to," Rhodey snorts, and Tony quirks an eyebrow in agreement. 

"Sam and I should be going too," Steve argues. Sam, for his part, takes a step back from Steve, eyeing Bucky warily. Bucky suspects that Sam is perfectly aware that he barely held his own against  _one_  Winter Soldier, and isn't particularly interested in trying to go up against five more. "You need us, Tony.  _Bucky_ needs us, needs  _me_."

Bucky and Tony rolls their eyes almost in sync. "I've managed just fine without you for the last few years," Bucky reminds Steve, who winces. "And Stark went up against Soldier me with only a gauntlet; Romanova went up against me without even that. You two together barely managed; I think we'll survive without you and bird boy." Steve's mouth falls open in disbelief and Sam looks mildly offended, but Rhodey and Natasha are both fighting smiles, so Bucky counts it as a win. "Steve, listen to your friends, and stand down. You don't always have to play the hero."

Steve's eyes soften as he looks at Bucky. "I'm not playing at anything, Buck. I just want to protect you."

"Last time you did that, we destroyed a bridge and you got your dumb ass arrested," Bucky reminds him. Natasha slips around Steve and releases Bucky's arm when it's clear that Steve is stunned into silence. 

"We better go, this guy's got a few hours on us," Rhodey says, turning to Tony. "How quick can you get our suits here?"

Tony smirks at him, but it's a pale imitation of what Bucky had seen on his face earlier, before he was confronted with his parents' killer. "They've been outside, along with the Quinjet, for the past six minutes. We're just waiting on you."

#

The flight to Siberia is quiet; Tony and Rhodey are talking quietly in the cock pit, along with a red man with a cape who had introduced himself as Vision. Natasha sits herself across from Bucky, and then promptly falls asleep. Bucky's done a lot of research on her- on everyone on Steve's team, really- since he's been living in Bucharest. But he only vaguely remembers the Black Widow; he has flashes of a room bathed in red, he can hear the sound of gunshots and a car crashing. His memories of her on the bridge are a bit more clear but they're tinted with the same fogginess that covers all of the Soldier's memories. They don't feel real, in a way. Bucky can remember them, but it's the same way someone else might remember a movie they watched when they were a child. He gets flashes of moments, interpretations of feelings. 

Bucky tries to sort through all of his memories, tries to recall all the little details that should have been wiped from his brain. He feels like it's a betrayal to not remember the way Maria Stark took her last breath underneath his fingers, feels like the people he killed deserve to have someone remember their deaths. Bucky wants to do more to make up for it, but he's not sure how.

When they arrive in Siberia, Tony looks at Bucky like he's torn. "We shouldn't be taking you in there with us," he says, and Bucky nods. "You haven't signed the Accords, you're not covered for things like this. But we don't have a choice, in this case. So I need you to get us in and then get yourself out as quickly and as spy-like as you can, okay?"

Bucky nods again. "I can do that," he agrees. "Won't you need the jet to get back, though? Should I just wait here?"

Tony shakes his head. "Friday's going to take you up in the air, you'll wait there. We don't want to risk anyone getting to you." Bucky feels his shoulders sag in relief, and Tony quirks an eyebrow at him. "Before I forget, Friday, meet Barnes. Barnes, meet Friday." Bucky looks around for a moment, before a feminine voice with an Irish accent says  _hello, Mr. Barnes._

"Oh," he says, looking up towards the ceiling. Tony rolls his eyes, but it's fond, almost. "Hello, Miss Friday. I hope you're well."

Friday sounds amused when she responds. "As well as I ever am," she replies, and Bucky snorts, because he can appreciate that answer. 

"Alright, Vis, Nat, you two good to go?" Tony asks. He leans back in his chair as his suit assembles around him.

"Ready," Natasha affirms. Bucky hadn't even realised she was awake, and he eyes her warily. She just smirks at him in response, causing Bucky to sigh. 

Despite the feeling that being back in the cold, back in the snow, gives him, Bucky leads Tony, Rhodey, Vision and Natasha out of the plane and into the bunker, and once he's gotten them in, he then heads back to the jet only to find King T'Challa waiting for him. 

"They say you did not do it," he says, without removing his mask. Bucky freezes, eyes darting around as he looks for an escape route, a way to get away without having to hurt anyone. "They say you were framed."

"I was," Bucky chokes out. "This time, anyway."

T'Challa reaches his hands up, claws retracted, and slowly removes his mask. "My father was killed by someone in pursuit of you," he says, and Bucky feels the words crack his chest open. 

"Yeah, well, join the club," Tony says, appearing out of nowhere. His face plate snaps up; he's frowning at T'Challa. "Didn't we leave you back in Berlin? I could have sworn Steve was told to take you back to the compound."

T'Challa looks faintly amused. "He was," he agrees. "I did not let him."

Tony snorts, and then his head swirls back in the direction of the bunker. "The other Soldiers have been killed in their sleep," he informs Bucky and T'Challa, face plate snapping back up. "Your faux-psychologist is waiting for us." He pauses for a moment, hovering a few meters above the ground. "For me and Steve, actually. Great, I love disappointing bad guys. Your Highness, would you please escort Barnes into the jet and just- stay there?"

T'Challa bows his head in Tony's direction, even despite his sarcastic tone. "It is the least I can do for Sergeant Barnes," he agrees, gesturing to Bucky. "I mean no harm towards you, Sergeant, not any longer." Bucky looks to Tony, who just nods at him and kind of- shoos him along with his hands. Bucky quirks an eyebrow, but follows T'Challa anyway; Tony turns and flies back towards the bunker. "I owe you an apology," T'Challa says, when they reach the jet. The door opens after a second, and Bucky follows T'Challa inside.

"You had no reason to think it wasn't me," Bucky says, sitting down. T'Challa shakes his head and sits down where Natasha had been earlier. 

"No, but I knew what had happened to you at the hands of HYRDA," he says, placing his mask on the seat beside him. "And yet I was still trying to take you out, rather than simply capture you. I am afraid that my grief got the best of me."

Bucky reaches up with his metal hand to scratch his head, somewhat uncomfortably. "I think anyone would have reacted the same. And it's not like Steve and I made it easy for you."

"I am not just anyone," T'Challa reminds him. "I am a King; I should be held to higher standards. I'd like to make it up to you, if you'd let me. The technological advances Wakanda has made towards psychological healing are far greater than what the American's seem to have achieved." He pauses for a moment, thinking. "Although, I believe Mr. Stark's new B.A.R.F. technology is steadily catching up to ours."

"Barf?" Bucky questions, and T'Challa smiles. 

"Mr. Stark is fond of quirky acronyms," Friday fills in, her voice laced with amusement. "B.A.R.F. stands for Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing."

Bucky sighs. "Thanks, Miss Friday, but I'm still lost."

"Perhaps it's better to wait for Mr. Stark to explain it upon his return," T'Challa suggests, as they feel the jet lift into the air. "In the meantime, I can breifly explain how the Wakandan technology differs, and how we may use it in order to remove the... trigger words, as I believe they are called, from your brain."

Bucky leans forward in his seat, his interest completely captured.

#

He ends up sharing a room with Steve again.

"Just like nothing's changed, right Buck?" Steve says, shuffling around the clothing hanging in his wardrobe in order to make room for Bucky's handful of items. Bucky wants to tell Steve to stop being stupid, wants to tell Steve that everything has changed, that nothing has been the same ever since the mark they shared vanished from their skin. "Stark's getting another bed delivered; it should be here in a few hours."

Bucky wonders if Steve means to crinkle his nose when he mentions Tony, or if it's just an automatic reflex by this point. "When can I see him again?" Bucky asks, and Steve starts in surprise. It's the first thing Bucky has asked him since he arrived back at the compound with Tony and the others; it's the first thing  _any_ of them had said since they arrived back from the bunker.

Tony had been shaking when he stepped out of his suit to walk into the plane, and he'd sat in the drivers seat for the entire flight, his body tense. Vision and T'Challa had waited with Zemo at the bunker for another jet to arrive for them; Bucky's still not sure why he didn't just ride with them, but he figures it has something to do with the way Tony refused to make eye contact with anyone.

"Well, he's a bit busy at the moment," Steve says, awkwardly. "He's got to sort out this whole mess with the Accords, and get Ross off our backs. He had to do a lot of fast talking to get you released into our custody. And anyway, we should be focusing on you at the moment, not Tony." One of the conditions of Bucky's release into Avengers custody is that he must room with one of them for the time being; Natasha had volunteered, but Steve had insisted. Bucky's not sure how he feels about rooming with Steve after so long; his memories of sharing a room with him are foggy, but he remembers that they were in a shared room when their marks vanished. Being back in such a small space with Steve is suffocating him; Steve is larger than life, and Bucky feels so small around him, still. 

Bucky frowns at him. "Does he not want to see me?" 

Steve reaches back to scratch his neck. "I'm sure he does, Buck, but he's got to make sure you're safe, first and foremost."

"Right, of course," Bucky says, after a moment. He knows his reappearance has thrown everything and everyone into chaos, knows that Tony would have to be doing a lot of fast talking and making a lot of deals to ensure Bucky's safety. He wonders if Steve realises how much effort it's going to take, for everyone on the Accords council to agree to leave him in the Avengers custody. T'Challa seemed to think that with Tony's influence and the appearance of Bucky's new soulmate mark, that it wouldn't be all that hard to convince them. "Hey, what was the deal with my mark, before? Wilson called it an arc reactor and said it was obvious that is was for Tony, but I didn't understand why. I don't even know what an arc reactor _is_."

Steve looks pained when he answers. "Tony invented the arc reactor a few years ago. Or reinvented it, I'm still a bit fuzzy on the details. It's what powers his Iron Man suit; it used to be in his chest, but he had surgery to remove it awhile ago."

"It was  _in_ his chest?" Bucky repeats, his flesh and blood fingers flying up to rest on his own chest. His metal arm has been aching on and off since he escaped in Berlin; he's trying to use it as little as possible. It also feels... wrong, somehow, for the hand that killed Tony's parents to touch the mark on Bucky's chest  _for_ Tony. 

Steve nods. "There was a whole terrorist disaster a few years back. Tony was injured and then kidnapped; the arc reactor was the only thing keeping him alive, at one point."

Bucky takes a few seconds to process the information. "So that's why it was obvious to everyone else," he eventually says, causing to Steve to wince slightly.

"Yeah, I suppose," Steve says. He's frowning before he shakes a head and forces a smile onto his face. "I know it's a bit late, but I haven't had breakfast yet. I don't have any porridge here, but I'm sure there's some down in the communal kitchen," Steve says, looking up at Bucky who frowns. 

"Porridge?" Bucky repeats, confused, and Steve nods happily.

"It's your favourite," he tells Bucky. 

"Oh," Bucky responds. "I didn't know that." A million emotions flash over Steve's face before he eventually seems to settle on more forced cheer. 

"It's okay, I'm sure you'll remember with time. And until then, you've got me to help you out," he says, and Bucky offers him a small smile in return. 

They head to the communal kitchen a few floors above Steve's, and Steve instantly sets about making a bowl of porridge for Bucky and a pile of toast for himself. He keeps talking throughout the entire process, and distracts himself enough so he doesn't notice Bucky's grimace at the first few bites of porridge. He wonders if he ever really liked it, seventy years ago. It's hard to believe he could, because it tastes disgusting to him now. It feels slimy going down his throat, and Bucky hates it.

The thought shocks him; he hasn't hated or liked anything in years, in decades. He wasn't allowed opinions, before. 

"I think I might like to see a therapist," Bucky says, when Steve pauses his ongoing monologue to take a breath. "A real one, this time."

"It's a condition of your release," Natasha says, shocking Steve so much he spits a mouthful of toast out onto the table. Bucky had spotted her perched up on top of the fridge when they entered the room; he guesses that Steve's stealth skills haven't improved much in the past seven decades.  "You'll also have to submit yourself for a few physical tests soon as well, if you want to formally apply to become one of us."

Bucky snorts. "After everything I've seen, you really think I want to be one of you?"

"We're not normally this... broken," Natasha sighs, as Steve huffs with indignation. "The Accords have really torn us apart, but we'll stitch ourselves back together because we have to, because the world is counting on us."

"I don't think that's a good enough reason," Bucky says, quietly. Natasha just hums as she gracefully climbs down from her place on top of the fridge. She snags a piece of Steve's toast and sits down on the chair in between Bucky and Steve. 

"Tony and Vision are looking into therapists for you, making sure they've all been vetted, and what not," she continues. "We don't want another disaster like Berlin."

Bucky grins wryly at her. "Don't we?" 

"Anyway, they'll give you a list of a few good options, and you can choose between them. We want to make sure you find someone you're comfortable with."

"Does he really need to see a therapist? He's not the Soldier anymore, he's doing okay," Steve protests, and Natasha and Bucky both raise an eyebrow at him. 

"Steve," Natasha starts, more gently than Bucky would have. "He's spend the past seventy years tortured and controlled. Of course he needs therapy."

"I  _want_ it, as well," Bucky interjects. "I need someone to help me sort out all of this." He waves his hand around his head, to demonstrate what he's referring to, but Steve still doesn't look convinced.

"That's what you have us for, have  _me_ for, Buck," he protests. 

"And that's great," Natasha interjects. "Really, Steve, it's invaluable that you're here, that you'll be able to help Barnes sort through pre-Hydra memories. But you're not a trained therapist, and he needs someone who is properly equipped to deal with the PTSD that he might have, with all of the torture and abuse he's suffered."

Steve still doesn't look like he's totally on board, but after a moment, he sighs and nods his head. "Alright, but if you feel uncomfortable at all, just say the word and we'll stop it right away. Don't let Stark or the Accords council push you into it, not if you don't want to."

Bucky opens his mouth, ready to argue, when a swift kick underneath the table stops him. "Fine," he agrees, scowling at Natasha who just smiles winningly back at him. "I'm gonna go... shower, or just... be anywhere that's not here, basically."

Steve lets out a small sound like he's been wounded, and Bucky just barely avoids another kick from Natasha before he stands up and leaves the room. This entire compound is designed to be open and airy but Bucky feels like he's suffocating every time he's in a room with Steve, feels like Steve's taking up all the air, all the space. 

When he gets back to Steve's floor, he strips and then spends the next thirty minutes standing under the spray of cold water. By the time he steps out of the shower, his skin is tinged the same blue as the mark on his chest. 

Before Berlin, before  _Steve_ , Bucky had thought he was getting better. He ate three times a day and showered in warm water regularly. He even slept occasionally, and he found himself trying new fruits that he'd never been able to get back in the forties. He listened to the radio and watched crappy television at night. He felt like he was growing into a person again, growing into someone new.  

He's only been back with Steve for two days, and already feels like his entire world is falling apart all over again.

#

The first therapist he tries is an younger man who looks too skittish to be around Bucky, and the second is an older woman who is too kind to him. The third time turns out to be the charm, and Bucky finds himself liking the young woman instantly. 

Her name is Eleanor, but she tells Bucky to call her Nora. She's only a few years older than Bucky, technically, but she seems a lot wiser than someone her age should be. 

"My parents were both in the army," she tells him, five minutes into their first session. "I specialise in the treatment of soldiers."

Bucky smirks at her. "Bet you've never had a case quite like mine, right?"

Nora just smiles back. "I've helped a lot of prisoners of war," she responds. "I don't see why I can't help you." She gets Bucky talking about the things he can remember, and the then the things he doesn't want to.

"I know I killed a lot of people," he says, forty minutes into the session. "I know it might not have exactly been my decision, but it was still my hands. Still  _me_ who pulled the trigger. I barely remember them; it's a blur, like it's not my memory, like it's something that somebody told me, once. I barely remember doing it, but I can't stop thinking about it."

Nora's silent for a moment, scribbling down something on her pad of paper. "You said earlier that your friend, Steve, has absolved you of all blame." Bucky nods, and Nora sighs. "And yet you seem to be taking on all this guilt, even despite knowing that while you might have committed these murders, you can't be held responsible."

"I need to find a middle ground," Bucky realises, after a moment. Nora smiles encouragingly at him. "Steve thinks I just... shouldn't think about it, thinks that it clearly wasn't me. But he's always been like that, always seen the world in black and white."

"I think the world is more made up of shades of greys," Nora says. "And then a whole lot of colours in between. I want you to find them, James. You did some things that you wouldn't have chosen, for yourself. We know, from the records Hydra kept, that you were forced into these things. That you were just a weapon they used. But you're always going to carry around the knowledge that it was your hands that ended lives. I want you to accept that, and then I want you to move on from it."

"That's why I'm here," Bucky responds. "To learn how to carry this guilt."

Nora shakes her head. "I want you to learn how to put it down."

#

Bucky starts meeting with Nora three times a week, and after every session, she leaves him with some homework. On Monday's, he spends his afternoon scribbling down every little detail he can recall from before. His notebooks are filled mostly with little notes about his family, about his siblings. The way Rebecca always made sure her nails were nicely painted, since people looked at her hands more than anything. The way the young twins followed Bucky around like little ducklings from the moment they were born, copying every move he made. The way their apartment smelled after his mother had made her pasta sauce; Bucky sometimes goes into the kitchen and opens all the little spice bottles so he can try and recreate the smell but nothing ever quite matches up. 

On Wednesday's, he writes about the things he remembers from his time with Hydra; he writes about the smell of blood, about the way throats were crushed underneath his hands. On Friday mornings, he and Nora go through his notebook, and then compare it with all the data Tony and Natasha had managed to retrieve from Hydra's data bases. A lot of it matches up, and Bucky can finally put names to the ghosts that haunt his dreams.

On Friday afternoons, Bucky sits in Steve's lounge room and listens to everything Steve has to say about their time together. Steve dances around a lot of Bucky's questions, and never really tells Bucky anything substantial. Bucky finds out that he used to love sleeping and the colour orange. He wonders if Steve's right, and Bucky's just changed since the time they knew each other. He wonders if Steve never really knew him at all.

One Friday, three weeks into therapy, Bucky asks Steve about Tony. His hands are shaking with nervous energy, and Steve keeps his eyes trained on Bucky's every move. Bucky can easily tell that the look in his eyes means he's ready to fight if necessary. "Tell me about him," Bucky commands, shuffling around on his chair until his hands are underneath him where Steve can't see them. 

Steve blinks in surprise. "About Tony?" At Bucky's nod, he stills. "Well, what do you want to know?"

Bucky considers. "Everything," he eventually settles on, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

"That doesn't really narrow it down, Buck. Ask me something specific."

"Why do you hate him so much?" Bucky asks, and Steve winces. "Don't try to deny it, I can tell by the way you talk to him. I might not remember much about you, but I've been trained to read people."

"I don't hate him," Steve says anyway, because he's never really listened to Bucky. "We just see the world differently. Like this Accords business, for example."

Bucky frowns at Steve. "T'Challa told me all about them while Tony and the others were arresting Zemo and Natasha has clarified some things for me since I've been here; they seem pretty reasonable, Steve."

Steve's eyebrows practically raise to his hairline. "Bucky, you're not in your right mind. You would have never agreed with something like this."

Bucky snorts. "No shit, I'm not in my right mind. But I'm still pretty confident that these Accords are the right thing to do. Natasha says that the council can't just send you somewhere you don't want to go. And they don't just forbid you from going where you want; it just means that you have to  _ask_ first, and then deal with the repercussions afterwards." He pauses, thinking about what Natasha had told him. "And really, that doesn't seem all that different from before. There was the Stark Relief team, I think? People that went in and cleaned up your messes, people that helped civilians that had been injured or lost their homes."

"I can't speak for that, it was all Tony and Pepper so I don't know how much help it actually did," Steve said, waving his hand in dismissal. 

"Doesn't that tell you something?" Bucky questions. "You  _don't_ know about it, you  _don't_ know about the Accords. What do you actually know?"

Steve's starting to get the righteous look in his eyes; his chin is tilted up and he's looking more and more like Captain America rather than Steve Rogers. Bucky might not remember much, but he distinctly remembers hating this particularly quality of Steve's. "I know that the Accords council is run by people who might not be trustworthy. I know that I'm a Captain, and not just a foot soldier, which means I know what's best for my team. I know that the Avengers were created to do  _good_ , to help make our world a better place. We can't do that if we're having waste precious time filling out paperwork every time we're needed!"

Bucky snorts again. "I read about you in the museum, you know. After Washington." Steve's eyes crinkle and his face softens as he smiles gently at Bucky. "They said you were never actually an official Captain. They said you lied on six enlistment forms in six different cities. You put so many people in danger by doing that, Steve. You being on a battlefield before the serum would have put everyone at risk."

"I was trying to  _help_ everyone," Steve protests, chin jutting out. "I _had_ to help, we were at  _war_."

"There were plenty of other soldiers, Steve. There were plenty of other ways to help that didn't involve putting others at risk. You always have to be the saviour, be the man with a plan, but sometimes being a Captain means sitting back and letting other people do what they do best. Natasha told me that Tony has numerous University degrees, and has been involved in politics for a long time. T'Challa told me that Tony was in all of the meetings about the Accords, that he could recite them backwards and forwards by the time it came to signing them. He's Howard's  _son_ , Steve, how can you not trust him on this? Or at least try and see his point? Did you even  _read_ the Accords, Steve? Or did you just jump into the fight fists first, like always?" He stands up, ignoring Steve's mouth falling open in shock. "Turns out I remember more than I thought I did. I suppose that would make you happy, if it wasn't your character faults I was remembering."

He grabs his backpack, filled with only a few essentials he'd been carrying around for two years, and heads out of Steve's room before Steve has a chance to stop him. "I can direct you to Ms. Romonoff's room, if you'd like," Friday says, her voice soothing. Bucky jerks his head in a nod. "Keep walking down this passage; there's an elevator at the end of the hall. Her floor is the fifth one; she's reading in her lounge room at the moment but I'll let her know you're coming."

"Thank you, Miss Friday. I appreciate it. Can you let Tony know I'm gonna be bunking with her, from now on? I'm not sure if it needs to be recorded anywhere, or not," he says. Friday's silent as she passes the message along, and Bucky steps into the elevator when he reaches it. 

"Mr. Stark wants to inform you that it's not relevant who you room with, as long as they reside within this compound," Friday says, as the elevator reaches Natasha's floor. "And he also says to be warned that Ms. Romonoff tends to get particularly irritated when her reading is interrupted, so don't be offended if you don't receive a warm welcome."

"Noted," Bucky replies, grinning up at the ceiling. 

"I resent that," Natasha says, as the elevator doors open. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun and she's wearing pink pyjamas; she looks nothing like the assassin Bucky remembers training years ago. It's comforting, somehow, even if Bucky knows its just another illusion. "Was Steve being an asshole?"

"When is he not?" Bucky returns, sighing. Natasha snorts as she lets him walk past her.

"You can have the guest room, it's two doors down the left. The bathroom's right across from you and the kitchen's over there. Help yourself to anything you want," she says, gesturing in the directions as she mentions them. "I'm going back to my book now. If you need anything, get it yourself." She plants herself back on her couch, wrapping a fluffy white blanket around her and resuming her book instantly. Bucky's sure that some people, having witnessed her like this, would be tempted to forget that she was raised to be one of the world's most deadly assassins. Looking at her nimble fingers flicking through the pages, her ears quirked like she's listening for anything unusual, her eyes darting around the room after every few pages, Bucky finds it impossible to forget. 

He dumps his bag in his room, and then immediately begins snooping around the apartment. He tries half-heartedly to be discreet when he comes into the kitchen, in Natasha's line of sight, but she snorts and he know's she's perfectly aware of what he's doing. "I bet I'm a better hider than you are a finder," she says, without taking her eyes off her book. 

"I know English isn't your first language, but that wasn't a great sentence," Bucky says, running his fingers underneath a drawer. Natasha laughs, and when she replies, she's speaking Russian.

"I'm heading to the gym when I've finished this chapter, did you want to join me? We can see how rusty you are," she says. She's smiling like she's amused, and Bucky finds it calming, having someone treating him like a person instead of the Winter Soldier.

"Are you sure you're up for that? I watched some footage of the fight on the bridge; it didn't look like you were winning," he replies, the Russian flowing off his tongue smoothly. He's climbing up on the counter and poking his head in a cupboard as he speaks. It's filled with a lot of breakfast foods, and some Russian candy; Bucky's fingers barely graze the bag before he's hit with a pillow. 

"Hands off," Natasha says, when he turns back to her in indignation. "Tony orders that in special, and I only get a certain amount every shipment. I'm not sharing it with you. And anyway, I was fighting the Soldier on the bridge; he's a lot tougher than you are, I think." Bucky rolls his eyes, and climbs down off the bench. "If you're done snooping, we can head down. There's some extra work gear down there, I'm sure we can find something that'll fit you."

"I wasn't  _snooping_ ," Bucky protests, even though he totally was. Natasha just raises an eyebrow as she leads him back to the elevator. 

#

After the first work out with Natasha, Bucky makes a point to always check with Friday before he visits the compound gym. He knows if he runs into Steve he'll be forced into a conversation he doesn't want to have, a conversation that he will regret. Living with Natasha is more than enough, and Bucky pretty much avoids spending time with her outside of their shared breakfast's each day. He only ever really works out when the gym is empty, but he doesn't totally mind spending time there when Sam's around, either.

"You like that I'm a jerk to you," Sam says one day, when Bucky cracks a grin after Sam makes another joke at his expense. It's his fifth one today, and his sixteenth one this week. Bucky's been keeping count of the times the other Avengers treat him like he's a normal person, like he isn't going to snap and slit their throat if they so much look at him the wrong way. Sam's winning by a landslide.

Bucky rolls his eyes. "I like that you don't treat me like I'm a bomb primed to explode at any given moment," he says, after a moment. "You and Romonoff are the only people who act mostly normal around me. Well, as normal as you two ever seem to be, anyway. What's up with everyone being named after animals or bugs, anyhow?"

"We're not  _all_ named after animals," Sam protests. Bucky just raises an eyebrow, and Sam sighs. "Okay, so  _some_ of us are named after animals."

"Out of all the super people who occasionally reside here, seven of you have animal affiliated names," Bucky points out. "That's a pretty big chunk."

Sam frowns. "God, that is a lot. Huh. I wonder what  _is_ up with that." 

"You're all idiots, that's whats up with that," he says, and Sam sobers up quickly. 

"I know we haven't given you much cause to think differently," he says. He's using his calming 'therapist' voice; it doesn't work on Bucky, but he appreciates the effort anyhow. "I signed the Accords yesterday, when Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne came down to do it as well. I finally had a chance to actually read the thing, and I figured it was about time."

"They're the insects, right?"

Sam laughs and nods his head. "I'm still working on getting Steve and Maximoff to agree, but I think we're making headway."

"Steve told you about our fight," Bucky realises, and Sam winces.

"I wish he'd used kinder words," Sam confirms. "He told me you went all Winter Soldier on him; Romanoff confirmed that wasn't exactly the case."

"Steve can't handle anyone being angry at him, or thinking he's wrong," Bucky tells Sam. "He has to make excuses when it happens. Obviously, if I don't agree with him on something, he's because Hydra fucked around in my head, and not because he's wrong."

Sam winces again. "As I said, I'm working on him. I think I'm getting him to come around to the idea of seeing a therapist, maybe. So he can talk about his problems with you without having to actually talk  _to_ you."

"Oh," Bucky says. "You must be responsible for Steve mostly leaving me alone. Natasha and I have been waiting for him to knock her door down; we even set traps and everything."

Sam eyes him wearily. "The dangerous kind?"

"I suggested a few," Bucky scowls. "But we ended up going with her idea, which was much less life-threatening."

"I suppose that's progress," Sam says, after a moment. "And yeah, I did convince him to give you some space. I gave him a bunch of articles about PTSD; he'll keep his distance for a little while, at least." He sighs. "I think he's putting his efforts into bugging Stark instead, though, so I don't know if it was a great trade, all in all."

Bucky eyes Sam suspiciously. He's still not used to people doing nice things for him; Natasha's room is now stocked with double the Russian candy (even though she  _still_ barely lets him have any) and the other day he'd come home to a brand new phone and laptop sitting on his bedside table. He knows that it's Tony's doing, and he's passed along his thanks to Friday, but he also knows that Tony is probably doing it out of a weird sense of guilt. Or, at least that's what Natasha seems to think. Sam doesn't appear to be treating him well out of guilt, though. 

"Thanks," he says, after a moment. Sam just nods once in acknowledgement before he presses a few buttons on his treadmill and slows his jog down to a walk, before jumping off and wrapping a towel around his neck.

"You know, working out with you and Steve is exhausting. It's a miracle I haven't developed a complex."

Bucky smirks at him. "Not everybody can be a super soldier," he agrees. "Guess you'll have to live with your bird wings instead."

"At least I can fly," Sam retorts, and Bucky laughs. "I'm gonna go get some lunch while Lang and Hope are still here. You coming?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Nah, I've got stuff to do." Sam nods and then leaves the gym, grabbing his water bottle on the way out. It's funny- Bucky doesn't remember enjoying running, before. He sometimes wishes that things weren't so tangled up with Steve, that they didn't have all this painful history between them. It'd be nice to be able to have someone around who could remember the things that Bucky couldn't. Someone who could help Bucky pull apart all of the half-remembered things floating around in his brain and tell him if they're true or not.

But Bucky's been reading up on Captain America, on the Accords, on the Avengers. He's learning a lot of things about Steve that he doesn't like. Learning a lot of things about the  _world_ that he doesn't like. 

"I figure that's half his problem," Natasha had said, last Thursday night. They were watching an old movie about dinosaurs and eating chocolate pudding. Natasha was wrapped in one of the many fluffy blankets she owned, and Bucky was curled up on her sofa in one of her old hoodies. She had smiled softly, when she'd seen him wearing it, and Bucky suspected that it used to belong to Tony, before Natasha had gained possession of it. He'd tried to give it back, but she'd insisted he kept it. 

"What is?"

"That he hasn't bothered to learn all that much about the world today, bar a few pop culture references," Natasha had elaborated. "SHIELD never really... did anything for him, before they stuffed him back in the suit and sent him out to save a world he knew nothing about. I know they're planning on making sure they do better, with you. Tony's helped organise a mini history of everything that's happened in the time you were... compromised."

Bucky had rolled his eyes. "What's the plan for me, after that?"

Natasha shrugged. "Well that all depends on you, Soldier. If you want to stay here and work with us, you'll have to sign the Accords and do all that follows." At Bucky's questioning eyebrow, she clarified. "They'll want to test all sorts of things that could effect your work in the field; you'll need to be assessed and declared medically capable as well as mentally stable."

Bucky scoffed. "So, I'm never going to be sent on another mission again, in other words. Great, I could use some peace and quiet."

"You never know," Natasha replied, talking around the large bite of pudding she'd just taken. "They let me join, after all." 

#

Tony stocks the communal kitchen with all their favourite things so discreetly that Bucky almost doesn't even realise, at first. There's food imported from Russia all the time, and Natasha always seems to be sucking on Russian candy. Bucky tries to sneak one on a Thursday morning after a work out, but she appears out of nowhere, and he's left eating boring American candy with the rest of them. Bruce has an entire cupboard dedicated to different types of tea; Natasha tells Bucky that before he had disappeared, Bruce made it his mission to drink the tea faster than Tony could replace it.

"Guess Tony won that one," Bucky says, and Natasha sighs sadly in agreement. Bucky thinks it's a shame that Bruce had vanished before he came onto the scene; he thinks it would be nice to talk to somebody else with an angry alter-ego. 

The spice cabinet in the communal kitchen always filled with little jars with Sokovian labels printed on them; every time Wanda uses them when she's cooking, a scowl clouds her face. Bucky wonders why she refuses to forgive Tony, why everyone else just accepts this. He wonders why the team seems to favour a girl they barely know over a man that they'd been working with for years. 

"A hole opened up in my home and ate everything I ever loved," Wanda spits out, when Bucky asks her one day. Natasha had forced him into joining the rest of the team for lunch, and Bucky's already plotting his revenge. Red is swirling at Wanda's fingertips, in her eyes. "Pietro was all I had left, and when the bullets hit him, I felt them tear through my own skin. I felt our lungs fill with blood and I felt our heartbeat slow until it stopped. All of my loss can be traced back to Tony Stark."

Bucky remembers his little brother and sister; they were only nine, the last time he saw them, but they shared an unbreakable bond even then. He used to find them hidden under their stairs talking to each other in a language only they understood. One time, when Mary broke her arm after falling from a tree, Thomas was crying out in pain before she'd even hit the ground. Bucky might not know exactly what pain Wanda had felt with Pietro's death, but he can guess.

"Tony's forgiven me for literally murdering his parents with my own two hands," he tells Wanda. It's only a half-truth, but he figures it's true enough in this situation. "I think it's about time you forgive him for the small part he  _might_ have played in your parents death. You don't seem to have a problem living in his house and spending his money. Why do you still have a problem with _him_?"

The look Steve gives Bucky from across the table is full of disappointment. "Bucky..." he starts, as Wanda storms out of the room. "You have to let her move on in her own time."

Bucky and Sam snort simultaneously. "What, like you've been letting me move on in my own time? Like you've been letting  _Tony_?"

"That's not fair," Steve protests, shaking his head. Bucky knows from Natasha that Steve has been focusing his efforts on annoying Tony since she and Sam declared Bucky off limits. "It's completely different, you didn't have a  _choice_. It wasn't  _you_ who killed Howard."

"But it was," Bucky says, standing up. Natasha, Sam and Scott are all awkwardly pushing food around their plates; Vision looks mostly intrigued. "It was me, Steve, and it's time you accepted that. I have. Tony has. Everybody else is able to deal with the fact that I spent the past seven decades killing people, why can't you?"

There's a look of pure frustration on Steve's face; it's a look that Bucky is more than familiar with. "Because it wasn't you! It was Hydra!"

"It's the same thing," Bucky says, before he leaves the room. He locks himself in Natasha's guest room when he gets back; his body is practically vibrating with frustration. "Miss Friday, are you there?"

"I'm always here, Mr. Barnes," an amused voice answers. "How can I help?"

"My arm's been playing up the past few days, is there a doctor or a mechanic, maybe, who could look at it?" He asks. Friday's silent for a moment, and doesn't respond for well over a few minutes. 

"Take the elevator to the basement," she eventually says. She sounds almost... disapproving, and Bucky wants to tell her to join the club, because lately it feels like all he does is disappoint people. "Your arm can be fixed down there."

"Oh," Bucky says, looking up at the ceiling. "I didn't mean right away, it's not that urgent. It's only causing mild discomfort."

"It's not a problem," Friday assures, sounding slightly more appeased. Bucky hears the elevator open onto this floor. "I've already preprogrammed the elevator."

"Thank you," Bucky says, swinging himself off of the bed and heading towards the open elevator doors. When he's inside, the doors slide shut and Bucky feels the elevator dropping down. When the doors open again, it's to Tony's lab. 

"Friday said you were having arm troubles," is Tony's greeting. 

"I didn't... it's not a... you're not a doctor," Bucky sputters. He's surprised when Tony just grins at him.

"Guilty," he agrees. "I am, however, a mechanic. Well, sort of, anyhow. I'm definitely more than qualified to take a look at your arm and fix whatever's wrong with it."

"It's not that urgent, I can come back another time," Bucky protests. "I didn't mean to... you shouldn't have to..."

"I shouldn't have to what?" Tony asks, quirking an eyebrow. "Be around the hand that strangled my mother?"

Bucky feels like his throat has closed up, like there's no air going into his lungs. Tony just watches quietly as Bucky tries to remember how to breathe. "Yeah," he eventually manages to get out. "That."

"Well, luckily enough for you, I've started seeing a therapist who's been very helpful in reminding me that while it might have been your hand, it wasn't your mind that killed my parents," Tony says. He looks a little uncomfortable, but not as much as Bucky had been expecting. 

"Must be a good therapist," Bucky says, after a beat. 

"The best," Tony agrees. "Now, what's wrong with your arm? I'm assuming it's the metal one that's playing up, right? Because I'm definitely not qualified to fix the other one."

Bucky nods his head. "It's like I can feel the parts moving around inside it," Bucky says. "Like something's loose, or something. It kind of... pinches? I guess, I'm not sure how else to describe it."

"When was the last time it was looked at?" Tony asks, twirling his chaise around to type something into his computer when it beeps at him.

"I think they used to do maintenance on it while I was frozen, or asleep. I don't really remember it ever having work done, sorry."

"That's okay, I can work with that," Tony says, before turning back to face Bucky. "Alternatively, I may have sort of... built you a new arm, kind of."

Bucky quirks an eyebrow. "Kind of?"

Tony rolls his eyes in response. "Okay, so I did. Definitely. I'm not sure what the problem would be with this one, and I won't be able to tell until I open it up, but I can definitely do that if you'd rather not part with it."

Bucky shakes his head. "I can't accept a new arm," he protests. "You're already keeping me fed and clothed and  _alive_ under your roof. This is too much."

Tony smiles wryly. "If you really want to keep this arm, that's okay, but you'd be doing me a favour by getting rid of it. Not to mention, I'm sure mine is vastly superior."

"Well, obviously," Bucky replies, because he might not remember much, but he knows that Howard Stark was a genius, and if what he's read about Tony, he's clearly outdone his father in more ways than one. "I knew it would be hard for you to have me here, but I didn't even think about how much it would suck to have this here as well." He waves his arm in the air, and Tony grimaces as he looks at it.

"I'd much rather you over the arm, that's for sure," Tony says after a moment. "But I can deal with the arm, if it's what you want."

"I... I'm not sure what I want," Bucky says. It's probably the most honest thing he's said since he saw Steve on the bridge two years ago. 

"That's okay too," Tony says. "The arm I built isn't going anywhere, if you decide that's what you want. In the meantime, I can have a look at this one for you, see if we can't figure out what's going on." He pulls an extra chair out from underneath a nearby table, and pushes it in Bucky's direction; after an encouraging nod from Tony, Bucky sits himself down in it. Tony heads over to his work bench to sort through and pick out some tools, and when he turns back to Bucky, wrench and spanner in hand, Bucky starts. "What's wrong?" Tony asks, looking more concerned than he should.

"I was awake," Bucky says, voice shaking slightly. "When they... my arm, the first time. I was awake. I haven't been since, but... the first time was enough to make a lasting impression, I suppose."

Tony's eyes are pitying when Bucky finally looks at him; Bucky hates it when Steve looks at him like this, but finds that it doesn't bother him as much, coming from Tony. "I've been working on developing a sedative that works on enhanced people; we had to use it on Spider-Man once, and it kept him under for almost an hour. He heals a lot quicker than you, but he's not as strong. I think it should keep you under long enough for me to figure out what the problem is and then repair it, though." 

Bucky's shaking his head before Tony's even finished speaking. "No. I mean, thanks, but no. I think that would be worse. I'm not sure who would wake up, after."

Tony frowns at that, but then nods his head anyway. "Well, I'm not really sure how to go about this. I can explain everything I'm doing, and go really slowly. Or we could get Rogers or Romonoff to come down here with you, if that would help?"

Bucky snorts. "I guess you're not caught up on the house gossip," he says, and Tony frowns in confusion. "Steve and I aren't exactly on speaking terms. And even though I'm living with Natasha, she's not really the best at calming people down." 

"Well, okay," Tony says. 

"Just- do what you need," Bucky tells him. "I'll be fine, I always am."

Tony looks almost... saddened, by Bucky's words. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, before he sighs. "I think you're going to need to remove your shirt, I can't really-"

"Oh, of course, no problem," Bucky interrupts. He hesitates for only a moment before pulling his shirt off; Tony's eyes are instantly drawn to the arc reactor inked into Bucky's chest. It's the first time they've been together since Berlin, since Siberia. Bucky's been too busy adjusting that he hasn't really had much time to worry about Tony, about his mark  _for_ Tony. By the way Tony's eyes flicker away from Bucky's chest like it's of little interest to him, Bucky suspects its been the same for him. 

Tony sets about fiddling around with his arm; his movements are slow and careful, his touch soft and hesitant. "Can you feel that?" Tony asks, at one point. Bucky shakes his head. "Alright, that's good. It looks like a few wires have come loose; they were rubbing together, it would have felt like an electric shock whenever they brushed together."

"That sounds about right," Bucky sighs. Tony hums as he wheels his chair over to his table of tools and then back again. 

"It's alright, I should be able to have it fixed in a minute. It's just a temporary solution, though, it'll probably need a proper look at sooner rather than later."

"I can find someone else to do it," Bucky offers, his voice quiet. Tony stops what he's doing and stares up at Bucky in confusion. 

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I feel like I've already taken too much from you," Bucky explains. "Natasha said that you probably felt guilty, and that's why you were doing all these things for me. The phone and the deals to keep me here and the extra Russian candy and what not. But... there's nothing to feel guilty for, not about  _me_."

Tony's frown deepens. "I'm not doing this out of guilt," he says. "I'm doing it because I'm probably the best qualified to work on your arm."

"And the other things?"

Tony shrugs. "Because it's the right thing to do?" He tries. Bucky rolls his eyes. "Because as much as a part of me wants to ship you off somewhere and never think about you again, I know that's not fair to you."

"I'd deserve it," Bucky says. Tony's eyes fill with pity.

"No, you wouldn't," Tony responds. "It's taken me awhile to understand that, but I do, now. After I watched the video a few hundred times, I realised-"

"What video?" Bucky interrupts, and Tony trails off, looking confused.

"The video," he repeats. "Of you, of my parents. Didn't Rogers tell you?"

Bucky feels his throat closing up again. "There's a video?" He manages to get out. "Of the Soldier... of  _me_ killing your parents?"

Tony nods and then shakes his head. "There was," he agrees. "It's gone now, though."

"Zemo," Bucky manages to gasp out, and Tony nods again. "Oh god, that's why he wanted Steve there with you. He was going to show you..."

"He did show me," Tony corrects. "It was a good thing we left you in the jet after all, I'm not sure how I would have responded if you were standing right in front of me afterwards."

"I would have deserved it," Bucky repeats. "Anything you could have thrown at me, I would have deserved it."

"No," Tony says, chewing on his lip. "I don't think you would have. Steve, maybe. But you?" He shakes his head again, and finally finishes whatever work he was doing to Bucky's arm, wheeling his chair back a few steps. "You moved like you were a robot, on the video," Tony explains. "It wasn't you, I could tell that just from the way you walked. You were just the gun Hydra pointed at my dad, and I can't hold you accountable for that."

"You sound like  _my_ therapist," Bucky tells him, and Tony snorts. 

"Nora didn't quite work out for me," Tony says, and Bucky starts at the name. "But I'm glad you're liking her." He passes Bucky his shirt, which Bucky pulls over his head. His arm doesn't hurt anymore, and he flexes it a few times to be sure.

"Thank you," he tells Tony, who shrugs.

"It's what I do," he replies.

"I didn't mean for the arm," Bucky corrects. "But I'm thankful for that, as well, of course. But more the other things."

Tony stares at him, his head tilted like he's trying to solve a problem. Eventually he sighs, and then shrugs. "You're welcome," he says, turning away. Bucky takes that as his cue to leave, and heads towards the elevator. "Let Friday know if it plays up again," Tony calls out, without turning around. "I'll make myself available to work on it if it's causing you any pain or discomfort."

"Thanks," Bucky says, before he steps into the elevator. 

Natasha raises a knowing eyebrow at him when he arrives back on her floor, and throws a blanket at him. "Sit," she commands. "Tell me everything." He rolls his eyes at her, but sits down on the couch next to her anyway; she immediately stretches her legs out to rest in his lap.

"Not much to say," he says. His voice sounds broken to his ears; it sounds like he's spent the past few hours crying and screaming. 

“Oh, James,” Natasha says, eyes softening. “How are you doing?"

“I’m coping,” Bucky says, after a beat. It’s not true now, but it might be one day, and that's enough for him, at the moment.


	3. autumn (part one)

Bucky settles into a routine within weeks of living at the Avengers compound; he eats breakfast with Natasha every morning (always toast, never cereal), heads off to therapy with Nora on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, works out with Sam every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, and spends his free time either sleeping or learning about this new world he’s woken up in.

He signs the Accords five weeks in, and Steve reluctantly signs them two days later. He’s still not cleared for active duty- and from what he hears from Natasha and Sam, neither is Steve- but it’s a step in the right direction, for now. Nora seems to think that he’ll be ready to fight soon, if that’s what he wants, but Bucky’s been doing a lot of thinking.

“I’ve had enough of fighting,” he tells her, one Wednesday morning. “I never wanted to go to War, not even back in the 40s. There was a reason I was drafted; I never signed up voluntarily. I’ve spent years on the battlefield, spent decades. I think I need a break.”

“If that’s what you want, I think it’s a great idea,” Nora says, smiling at him.

Bucky smiles tentatively back at her. “I’m not sure what I’d do instead, is my only problem. I know that I can’t keep living here on somebody else’s dime, not if I’m not fighting with the Avengers.” Nora hums thoughtfully; she does this a lot, and it had taken Bucky a few sessions to realise that she barely spoke during their time, instead allowing him to come to conclusions all on his own. He appreciates it, but right now, he could use a little advice. “I still want to help people, though. Just in a different way.”

“Well there’s plenty of options, if that’s what you’re interested in,” Nora says, reaching into her bag to pull out her laptop. “You could get involved in any of the numerous charities run in the Avengers name, or maybe take on a leadership position and train other potential Avengers. That way you could still reside within this compound, and work with the people you trust. Or if you wanted something completely different, we could look into getting you some qualifications. Do you have any interest in studying, or learning a trade?”

Bucky shrugs, biting back a yawn. “I’ve never really thought about it, before. There was always the War, and the only plans I had were vague and involved factory work.” 

Nora arches an eyebrow. “Is that something you’d still be interested in?”

“Not at all,” Bucky snorts. “I like learning, but I’m not sure I’d be up for going to school or anything. I like the idea of working with a charity, though. I know that Stark Industries runs a few, I guess I could look into them.”

Nora turns her laptop around, so the screen is facing Bucky; she’s loaded up the Stark Industries website, and there’s a list of charities. “A lot of these directly relate to the Avengers; clean-up crews and raising funding for people affected by tragedies and such. We can go over them and then if you find some that you like, we can work out a plan.”

Bucky smiles at her. “That’d be really great, but could we maybe postpone that until our next session? I’m feeling pretty beat today.” Nora’s eyes instantly fill with concern.

“Have you been sleeping well? Any new nightmares?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing new. Nothing at all, actually. My sleep’s been pretty boring, lately.” When he lived alone in Bucharest he could barely make it through the night without waking numerous times from nightmares. Since moving in with Natasha, he’s barely even dreamt. “I’ve just been so tired, lately. I feel like all I do is sleep and yet I never feel rested.”

Nora frowns, closing her laptop and slipping in back in her bag, trading it for her usual notebook and pen. She flicks through a few pages before looking back at Bucky. “You said the nightmares stopped when you moved into Natasha’s guest room,” she says, and Bucky nods his head in confirmation. “And that’s when you started sleeping more often, and more deeply?”

Bucky shrugs. “I suppose. It’s been getting worse the past few weeks, though.”

Nora scribbles something down in her notebook before smiling up at Bucky reassuringly. “It’s probably just your subconscious finally feeling comfortable enough to relax and rest; I imagine you were always on edge when you were living in Bucharest.”

Bucky nods. “Yeah, I suppose. I was always on the watch for someone; HYDRA, Steve, SHEILD. I never really let my guard down.”

“Well, I’d suggest going to a doctor just to make sure it’s nothing medical, since I’m out of my depths with the experiments your body has undergone. There’s a physician residing here, right?” Bucky nods his confirmation, and Nora smiles. “Great, go and see him sometime soon. But otherwise, I think we should just keep an eye on it, alright? Make sure you’re going to bed and waking up at the same time as often as possible, a little routine couldn’t hurt.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky says, standing up and stretching the kinks out of his body; he’s been sitting still for too long. “I’ll see you Friday. Same time, same place?”

Nora rolls her eyes. “As always, this is my office, and we have a standing appointment. It’ll always be  _same time, same place_.”

“Fantastic,” Bucky says. They exchange grins as he heads out of her office. “Friday,” Bucky calls, when he reaches the elevator.

“Hello, Sergeant Barnes,” Friday responds. “How can I help?”

“I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the team doctor? If they’re free, of course.”

“She doesn’t appear to have any appointments until later this afternoon,” Friday confirms. “Her office is on the second floor, just opposite the meeting room you were in last week.”

“Thanks Friday, I appreciate it,” Bucky responds, selecting the second floor when he steps into the elevator. “Would you mind letting Nat know I might be back a little later? She’ll come looking for me, otherwise.”

Friday’s silent for a moment. “Ms. Romanoff said that she’ll meet you in the cafeteria for lunch,” she eventually says. “Mr. Wilson, Mr. Lang and Ms. Van Dyne will also be in attendance.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Great, more bugs.”

“I believe spiders are technically arachnids,” Friday corrects, laughter in her voice. Bucky snorts out a laugh of his own.

“Smart ass,” he mutters.

Friday sounds somewhat smug when she responds. “I learned from the best,” she agrees.

#

The team physician, an elderly woman named Martha, tells Bucky that he’s probably suffering from depression.

“I doubt that any medication we have would work on you, if you’re anything like Rogers,” she muses, flicking through her files. “But I can see here that you’re attending regular therapy?” Bucky nods, and she closes his file, pleased. “I’d suggest keeping up with that, as well as making sure that you’re eating healthy and exercising regularly. Avoid screens for the two hours before you intend to sleep; try reading instead, it should help relax you enough to sleep.”

Bucky nods his head and leaves her office as quickly as he possibly can. Afterwards, in the cafeteria, the sound of Sam and Natasha’s laughter fills the room.

“No shit you’re depressed,” Sam says, mouth full of pasta. “God, I love Martha. She’s hilarious.”

“She doesn’t sound all that competent,” Hope notes, a frown clouding her face.

Natasha shakes her head. “Really, she’s wonderful. She’s great for injuries and she has one of the steadiest hands I’ve seen.”

“She’s also really quick on her feet,” Sam interjects. “She’s never even fazed when we come back from a mission all bloody and broken. She’s just…”

“Not that great at the simple things,” Natasha fills in, and Sam nods. “Oh well, I’m sure Nora was right about your body just catching up on some rest, Barnes. You’ll be fine in a few weeks.

Bucky’s too tired to bother arguing, so he just nods his head. “Yeah, of course I will be,” he agrees. 

Later that night, Bucky decides to take Martha’s advice; he dims the light in his bedroom, stuffs his laptop and phone underneath his bed, and opens a book he’d stolen from Maximoff’s room earlier that evening. Natasha only owns trashy romance novels, Sam reads on a tablet, and all Steve has is a handful of books from their childhood hidden in his wardrobe. Maximoff, despite any other feelings Bucky might have about her, has the best collection of crime fiction novels in the house.

He’d poured through the hundreds of titles she’d had, all lined up neatly on her large bookcase, before he’d eventually picked up one he’d been hearing a lot buzz about recently.  _The Girl on The Train_ was being turned into a movie, and Bucky wanted to read it before that happened. He read for about forty minutes and was almost half-way through the novel before he felt his eyes drooping. After marking his place in the book and placing it on his bedside table, Bucky burrowed himself into his bed.

“Goodnight, Friday,” he says, pulling the blankets tighter around his body. The light in his room dimmed until his room was plunged into darkness.

“Goodnight, Sergeant Barnes,” Friday responded.

#

When Bucky awakes the next day, he somehow feels like he’d slept for a week and yet not slept at all.

“It’s so frustrating,” he complains to Natasha. He’d missed their regular breakfast that morning; Natasha had fixed him with a  _look_ that made Bucky seriously worry for his life before he’d made it up to her with a homemade lunch.

Natasha hums sympathetically. “I’m sure you just need more rest.”

“I just slept for sixteen hours straight,” Bucky replies. “I think I’ve rested enough for the next few decades.”

“I guess your body is just making up for lost time,” Natasha shrugs. She’s eyeing him up like he’s a puzzle she desperately wants to solve; she’s keeping her distance to try and pretend she doesn’t care, but Bucky recognises the look in her eyes.

“You’re no help,” he tells her with a frustrated huff. She just hums in agreement as he heads out to the gym to work out his frustrations.

“I feel like I should warn you,” Friday starts while he’s in the elevator. “Captain Rogers is currently working out in the gym as well.”

Bucky sighs, leaning against the elevator wall for support. The cool metal is welcoming against his skin. “How many punching bags has he worked his way through today?”

“Only two,” Friday responds. “I can redirect the elevator if you’d like me to.”

“No, that’s okay. Thanks for the offer though, Friday. I appreciate it.” He pauses, looking up at the ceiling. Natasha had given him more information about how Friday worked; he knows, logically, that she doesn’t reside above him like some sort of god, but he can’t shake the habit of looking up whenever he speaks to her. “Thanks for everything, actually. You’ve been a fantastic help during my time here.”

“Oh,” Friday responds, sounding more emotional than Bucky has ever heard her. “You’re welcome, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky grins. “I think you can call me Bucky, now.”

“Very well, Bucky,” Friday agrees, sounding pleased. “Is there anything else I could do for you?”

“Just wish me luck,” he sighs. “I’m going to need it.”

“I’ll cross my fingers for you,” Friday affirms. “Well, not literally. Good luck, Bucky.” Bucky snorts as the elevator doors slide open. Steve is indeed punching his way through yet another punching bag; Bucky wonders if Tony has to order a new one every time Steve destroys another one, or if he just has a room stockpiled with them by now.

“Buck, hey,” Steve says, when he notices Bucky has entered the room. Bucky nods at him as he heads over to the treadmill. Shock flashes across Steve’s face before it’s replaced by pain; Bucky feels momentarily guilty, but then Steve opens his mouth and ruins it. “I’ve missed you," Steve says softly, staring directly into Bucky’s eyes. "You were my best friend," he adds, before pausing and shaking his head. "You're  _still_ my best friend," he corrects himself. “I want us to get back to that.”

Bucky swears he feels his heart skip a beat; seventy years ago, he would have done  _anything_ to hear these words coming out of Steve’s mouth, to see the absolute sincerity written all over his face.

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” Bucky tells him, and Steve’s face crumples. “Seventy years and two disappeared marks late, in fact.”

“I never wanted our marks to disappear,” Steve says. “You know that.”

"I don't know anything," Bucky responds, because it's more or less true, lately. Steve flinches, but nods his head anyway.

“And that’s my fault,” Steve agrees. “I could have handled it better, I  _should_ have handled it better. But Buck- when the marks vanished, I knew it had to be for a reason, knew that we both had something  _better_ waiting for us. I loved you enough that I wanted that for you.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Bucky tells him. “You wanted that for yourself.”

Steve looks ashamed when he meets Bucky’s eyes again. “You’re right,” he agrees. “I did. But I never wanted to lose you in the process.”

“Fifteen years, Steve,” Bucky says. “We were together for fifteen years, and then one day you just decided I wasn’t enough because of some dumb mark and you left. We were never the same, after that. How could we be?”

“And whose fault is that?” Steve retorts. “At least I  _tried_ , Buck, at least I talked to you like normal, treated you like normal. You never spoke to me, after. Not really, not in any way that counted. I know I was with Peggy, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want you in my life, didn’t  _need_ you just as much. But you couldn’t even be in the same room as her, couldn’t even hear her name without looking like you wanted to fling yourself out of the nearest window. Did you ever think about how that made me feel? How much it hurt that you hated Peggy enough that you couldn’t stand being around me?”

“I never  _hated_ Peggy,” Bucky says, forcefully. He doesn’t add what comes after that:  _I hated you for being with her, except I could never hate you, so mostly I just hated everything else._ By the look on his face, he’s pretty sure that Steve gets it anyway. “I couldn’t stand being around the two of you because it  _killed_ me to see you being happy with Peggy, being happy  _without_ me. You might have just been able to move on, Steve, but I couldn’t, and I’m not going to sit here, and have you guilt me for that. I deserve better than that.”

Steve looks almost surprised. “Bucky… of  _course_  you do,” he agrees. He sounds lost and heartbroken.  _Yeah, well, join the club_ , Bucky thinks.

They stand there silent for a long time; there’s almost one hundred years of pain and heartache between them, and Bucky’s not sure how to fix it, not sure if he even can.

"Everything's so different," Bucky says softly, staring at Steve. He doesn’t know if he can fix this, fix  _them_ , but the one thing he and Steve have in common is that they don’t go down without a fight. "I feel like we've gone back in time to the forties, in the alley when we first met."

Steve’s shaking his head even before Bucky’s even finished his sentence. "That was better, back then."

"We didn’t even know each other," Bucky protests. 

"But we didn't have this- this gulf between us. Everything felt easier then. We fit together perfectly, before." Steve shrugs, and lowers his eyes.

This is time it's Bucky who shakes his head. "Did we ever though, really?" Steve doesn’t respond, but that answers his question anyway. “I don’t know how to make this work,” Bucky admits. “But I’m willing to try, if you are.”

Steve nods his head enthusiastically. “Of course I’m willing to try, Buck, you’re all I’ve been able to think about for months, for years. We can get back what we had, I know it.”

Bucky holds up a hand, silencing Steve. “No, we can’t,” he replies. “Because we’re both different people than we were back when we knew each other. Things have changed way too much between us, I don’t think we can ever get back what we had. I want to try and get something… something different. I think we can be friends again, Stevie. But we’ve gotta start from scratch, okay? We can’t keep relying on what we had to help find out what we can be.”

Steve nods his head again, somewhat less eagerly. “Okay, that’s fair.” He takes a deep breath and when he releases it, he looks like he’s finally let go of a huge weight. “I think I’m gonna go and find Sam, see if he can put me in touch with the therapist friend he keeps trying to set me up with. Maybe it’ll help to talk to someone.”

“That’s a really good idea, Steve,” Bucky tells him, smiling. “I’ll see you around, alright?”

Steve looks like he wants to say something else; Bucky braces himself, but Steve just sighs and returns Bucky’s smile. “Yeah, Buck, see you around.”

When he leaves, Bucky spends half an hour on the treadmill before he moves to the punching bags; Steve’s left a few for him, and Bucky takes great pleasure in hitting them over and over again. By the time he’s finished, he’s even more exhausted, but his head feels a lot clearer.

“Friday,” he calls, when he steps back into the elevator to head back up to Natasha’s floor. “I don’t want to push, but is there any chance the offer Tony made me still stands?”

Friday responds straight away; much quicker than Bucky had expected. “The new arm is still in the lab. We’ve just been waiting on you.” 

“I’d love to take him up on it, when he’s got time,” Bucky says. “Not today, though, I’m exhausted. Is he free anytime this week?”

“He’s busy at the moment,” Friday says, after a beat. “But I’ll let you know when I can confirm the best time with him.”

“Thanks, Friday,” Bucky says as he steps out of the elevator. Nat’s nowhere to be seen, so Bucky spends the next twenty minutes standing under the spray of hot water in her shower, head resting against the wall. When he finally manages to convince himself to get out, he climbs into his bed without bothering to get dressed. He’s spent years of his life dressing in the dark and showering with his eyes closed, too afraid to see what might engrave itself into his skin. He hasn’t spent too much time analysing the mark on his chest or the one behind his ear; he spends awhile relearning them tonight.

The mark on his chest, the mark so clearly for Tony, is probably the brightest mark Bucky has evenr seen. It’s so bright that Bucky’s convinced it’s actually shining; he turns off his light to check if it glows in the dark, and he’s secretly a little disappointed when it doesn’t. Using his phone, he takes a photo of the mark behind his ear; it’s not all that big, and not at all colourful. It’s just a thin outline of an autumn leaf; Bucky wonders what this mark means, wonders who it’s for. Tony and Sharon Carter were the only new people he had met at the time of the marks etching themselves into his skin, and Natasha has already confirmed that Sharon is happily marked for a woman named Maria.

Bucky decides that overall, who this mark is for isn’t all that important. Through his sessions with Nora, he’s come to the conclusion that soul marks don’t have to define his entire life. Nora had told him about her parents; when they had met, her mother had a mark for another man, but she fell in love with Nora’s father anyway. One year into their relationship her mark for the other man had faded; three years in, and a new mark for Nora’s father had grown.

Bucky’s starting to think that soul marks are really just an expression of love, of potential. He wonders if he and Steve could have worked if they hadn’t been so focused on their marks, if they hadn’t let them control their relationship.

Bucky likes the mark on his chest, and he likes the mark behind his ear. He’s intrigued by Tony, and he thinks he could even like him if he’s given the chance. But he’s done letting something else control his fate for him, done letting his mark define who he loves.

Bucky makes a mental note to tell Nora this at their next session; she’ll be proud of him, he knows. With that in mind, he digs around in the drawer of his bedside table looking for the book he’d begun last night. When he finds it, he fluffs his pillows up behind his back and settles into read, flicking to the marked page to continue where he had left off.

To mark his place, Bucky had left an old faded receipt in between two pages; upon finding it in the book, he sits up, shocked.

Scribbled on the temporary-bookmark in bright purple pen are the words _Tom killed Megan; she was pregnant with his baby. Rachel and Anna kill Tom upon his confession_.

Bucky scowls as he throws the book and the now-crumpled note on the ground; no wonder Natasha had been so quiet today. Bucky flicks off his bedroom light as he turns over, already plotting his revenge. 

#

Two days later, Bucky wakes up to Friday informing him that he can head down to Tony’s lab any time after two that afternoon to replace his arm.

“How do you feel about the whole thing?” Nora asks at their session that morning.

Bucky shrugs. “Confused, mostly. I’ve had this arm for longer than I can remember. But it’s caused so much pain, so much death. It’s a part of me, but I’m not sure I want it to be anymore.”

“The arm isn’t what caused the pain and death,” Nora corrects. “It was HYDRA, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky agrees. “It’s still hard to separate it in my mind sometimes, though.”

“And that’s totally understandable,” Nora says. “But if you want to keep this arm because it’s yours, because while it might have helped to kill other people, it’s also helped to keep you alive, then that’s fine. If you want to keep it for no other reason than it looks cool, that’s fine too. It’s your body, you get to make the decisions about it.”

Bucky’s silent for a long time as he mulls that over. “I haven’t had to make any big decisions like this in a long time,” he tells her, and Nora’s eyes soften with pity. “But I think I would like a new arm. I mean, I know the arm Tony has built will be much better, technology wise. But also… I think it’d make it easier for me to face him, you know?”

Nora nods understandingly. “Do you think he still harbours resentment for your involvement in the death of his parents?”

“How could he not?” Bucky snorts. “And I understand, of course. I think he’s mostly upset with Steve for not telling him, though. But maybe if he knew I wasn’t walking around with the arm… maybe that would help him.”

“Would it help you, though?” Nora questions. “I think it’s great that you’re thinking of Tony, and of how to help him. But I’m here to help _you_ , so I think we should focus on what’s best for you and your healing.”

“I think it would,” Bucky answers. “I mean, I can always ask Tony to keep this arm somewhere, just in case I change my mind. But I think that this arm has served its purpose. I think I’m ready for a new one.”

“How do you think you’ll handle the actual change over?” Nora asks. “You’ve said before that you were awake, when they put the arm on after you fell from the train. But you were asleep or heavily out of it when they did maintenance on it afterwards, right?”

Bucky nods his head in confirmation. “They usually did it right after I’d woke up from cyro, so I was usually pretty out of it. I don’t remember much of the first time, just that it hurt. There was a lot of blood,” he says, frowning. “I think I’ll be okay this time, though. Friday said that Tony had conferred with the team doctor; it’s all purely mechanical, at this point, so there shouldn’t be too much pain. He mentioned last time that he had a sedative to knock me out, if I wanted.”

“Do you want that?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think I need to be awake for it, I need to be _me_ for it. But it’s nice knowing it’s there, just in case.”

“In case the Soldier comes out, you mean?”

Bucky winces. “We’ve been without an incident for a while now, I feel like I’m being lulled into a false sense of security.”

“I won’t pretend to have all the answers,” Nora begins. “I have been doing a lot of research on different types of personality disorders, but obviously your exact situation hasn’t been researched properly enough to give us any answers.”

“You don’t say,” Bucky drawls, sarcasm lacing his tone. Nora just rolls her eyes.

“But I do think that the Soldier only comes out when called, and as long as that doesn’t happen, you should be fine. And if it _does_ happen, I think this is the best place for you to be, with all your friends and enhanced individuals around to help contain the damage.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just worried that removing the arm will trigger him, or something,” Bucky explains, and Nora sighs.

“We can’t rule that out,” she agrees. “I think as long as Tony is prepared for the possibility though, it’s worth the risk. You’ve managed to break through a few times now, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to again, if necessary.”

“Thanks, Nora,” Bucky says, smiling. “You’ve been great, today. And every day, really.”

“It’s what I do,” Nora returns with a laugh. “If anything goes wrong with the procedure, feel free to call me outside of our appointments. But if everything goes according to plan, I’m excited to see your new arm next week.”

“Me too, actually,” Bucky says. “Anyhow, I better get going. I’ve got lunch with Sam and Steve before I have to head down to Tony’s lab.”

“Well, good luck, Bucky. I’ll see you Monday,” Nora says reaching out and resting a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Bye, Nora,” he says, smiling at her as he leaves the room and heads up towards the cafeteria.

#

Lunch with Sam and Steve is… awkward, to say the least. Bucky’s pretty quiet; he’s nervous about seeing Tony again, and he still doesn’t feel all that comfortable hanging out with Steve. Steve, for his part, is trying hard not to say anything that might set Bucky off; every time he opens his mouth to talk, he takes a deep breath and seems to stop himself. He looks pained when he offers Bucky some of his burger and Bucky tells him he’s fine with his pasta.

“You used to love burgers,” Steve tells him, quietly. Bucky bristles, and then Steve shakes his head in apology. “Sorry, I know. Pasta now, huh?”

“I like Italian,” Bucky says.

“Italian’s great,” Sam interjects, awkwardly. “Myself, I prefer Chinese.”

Bucky and Steve simultaneously roll their eyes. “Nobody asked, bird-brain.”

“Rude,” Sam says, but he looks more relieved than offended. Bucky and Steve laugh, causing Bucky’s chest to fucking _collapse_. He hasn’t heard the sound of their mixed laughter in what feels like forever. There’s dead silence when they both stop laughing a moment later, and Bucky wonders if Steve is thinking it too, if they're both trying to remember the last time they laughed together like that. He wonders if Steve is coming up as blank as he is.

“I should… I need to go,” Bucky says, standing up abruptly. What he really needs is seventy more years of peace and quiet, what he really needs is a way to turn back time and fix things with Steve, what he really needs is to stop the feeling of utter heartache and betrayal whenever Steve so much as looks at him.

Steve opens his mouth to object, but Sam places his hand over Steve’s, stopping him. Bucky’s never been more thankful for him. “We’ll see you later, Buck,” Sam says, and Steve just sighs in resignation.

Bucky nods at them before making a quick and desperate exit. “You can head down to the lab a little early, if you’d like,” Friday’s voice says when Bucky reaches an empty hallway. “Or I can cancel and reschedule for another day, if you need some time.”

“No, it’s okay,” Bucky gasps. “I just need a moment.” Bucky leans against the wall and tries to remember how to breathe.

The thing about loving Steve is that Bucky’s never really stopped. He fell from the train before he had a chance to properly get over him, and he’s been too distracted with everything else that’s happened since he woke up as Bucky and not the Winter Soldier to even think about Steve properly.

He’s not in love with him, not anymore, but his body doesn’t seem to know that yet. His heart still hurts when Steve smiles at him, and his hands still want to reach out and cup his face, like it’s ingrained into his muscle memory, like it’s something he’s spent years doing and should continue doing for the rest of his life.

Bucky thought he was over Steve, thought he had finally moved on, but he’s starting to realise that maybe that’s not how love and heartbreak work. Maybe there won’t be a clear finish line, maybe there will still be times, even years later, where Steve will look at him and Bucky will want nothing more than to pull him in and kiss him. Maybe he’ll never be over him, not completely.

He needs to find a way to deal with that on his own, before he tries to make Steve deal with it. Their relationship is already hanging by a thread, and Bucky doesn’t want to be responsible for the thread snapping.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Friday’s tentative voice interrupts his mental anguish. “Your heartrate has deaccelerated, are you alright now?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answers, letting out a deep breath. “I think I might be. Is it alright if I head down to the lab now?”

“Yes, of course,” Friday replies, sounding relieved. Bucky’s touched at the thought that she cares for him. When he reaches Tony’s lab, Tony’s standing at his coffee machine stirring three gigantic teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. He looks up when he hears Bucky arrive and then downs the entire drink in thirty seconds, keeping his eyes locked on Bucky the entire time.

"I would have pinned you for a 'coffee as black as my soul' kind of guy," Bucky observes, and Tony snorts.

"You're banned from the internet," Tony responds. "Seriously, I'm having Friday hack into all of your phones and laptops and disabling the internet access as we speak."

"She wouldn't do that," Bucky says and Tony narrows his eyes before he frowns up at the ceiling. 

"I  _built_ you," he complains. "Why do you like all of our house guests more than me? Wait- don't answer that, actually." Bucky laughs, and Tony just sighs. "Anyway, I drink coffee too often to have it taste disgusting. Seriously, black coffee tastes like ass, and not in the good way. I like myself way too much to deny myself sugar. Would you like one?”

He’s already making himself another one; Bucky would be impressed, but he’s mostly concerned. Natasha once told him that Tony stays awake for days on end with nothing to fuel him bar coffee and an idea. “No, thanks, I’m trying to cut out caffeine. Haven’t been sleeping all that well.”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, nodding. He fills his cup up and dumps an obscene amount of sugar in it before turning back to Bucky. “Alright, we’re here to swap your arm over, right?”

“If that’s still okay,” Bucky answers. “I really don’t want to put you out.”

Tony waves a hand, shooing Bucky’s worries away. “It’s all good, Barnes. If you want to come and sit on this chair, I can get everything sorted out soon. I wasn’t expecting you so early, so I’m not as organised as I usually am, sorry.”

Bucky blinks at him. “Oh, no, that’s my fault. I, um, had to leave lunch, and Friday said I could come down here. There’s no rush.”

“Yeah, Friday said you didn’t look so good, earlier,” Tony says, wringing his hands awkwardly. “You alright?”

“No,” Bucky responds, because he doesn’t want to lie to Tony. Tony winces and Bucky reconsiders. “I will be, though. I just had a … moment, with Steve.”

“Oh,” Tony says, eyes lighting up with understanding. “It’s hard, isn’t it.” At Bucky’s raised eyebrow, Tony elaborates. “Moving on.”

“You had a mark, for Ms. Potts, didn’t you?” Bucky says, before raising his hand to his mouth. “Shit, sorry, I know that’s not-”

“No, it’s fine,” Tony says after a steadying breath. “It’s public knowledge, after all.” He’s silent for a moment as he types something into his computer before turning back to Bucky’s arm. “I loved Pepper,” Tony tells him, straightforward, like he’s telling Bucky the sky is blue and the grass is green. There’s no room for doubt, no room to question it. His eyes are turned away from Bucky as he fiddles with his new arm. “I loved her, and I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. When her mark vanished, it took weeks for mine to disappear too, and even then, I loved her. It took me months, took me  _years_ to stop being in love with her. I still love her; she’s my best friend, and one of the few people I trust with my life, and I’m not in love with her anymore, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was.” Bucky’s quiet for a long time as Tony finally finishes whatever he was doing with Bucky’s new arm. “Alright, I’m going to detach this arm now, if that’s alright?”

Bucky nods. “Will it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” Tony says. “I’ve read all the files that HYDRA left behind regarding your arm; it looks like there’s an off switch in there. If I turn it off, it basically becomes dead weight. You shouldn’t feel anything while I remove it.”

“Great, thanks,” Bucky says. Tony sets about doing just that and has Bucky’s arm removed within a few minutes.

“Alright, now I’m going to put this one on,” Tony says, holding up the new arm. “It works basically the same as your current one, but it’s a bit more advanced. T’Challa gave me some vibranium to make it, since he still felt all guilty about trying to kill you and what not.” Bucky snorts, and Tony grins wryly. “You might feel a bit of pinching while I’m attaching it; just let me know if it gets too painful, alright?” Bucky nods and they fall into silence as Tony starts attaching the new arm. It twinges, a bit, but the pain is mostly tolerable. “You doing okay?” Tony asks after a few minutes.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“What’s the pain, on a scale of one to ten?”

Bucky shrugs one armed. “Six?”

Tony pulls back and squints at him. “What would you call a ten?”

“I’m not sure,” Bucky shrugs again. “Falling from the train? Having my arm removed the first time with no anaesthetic?”

Tony sighs. “Alright, well let me know if it gets any worse.”

They’re silent for a long time as Tony works on his arm; the quiet is more unmanageable than the pain. “I don’t know if I was ever in love with Steve. I thought I was, at the time, but… but now, I’m not sure. I hoped it was love. I tried really hard to make it love. But I don’t know if it ever was.”

“That’s the thing about soul marks,” Tony says, not sounding at all shocked at Bucky’s abrupt confession. “They make us do things without knowing why we’re doing them.”

Bucky’s fingers reach up to touch the mark on his chest, and Tony looks away. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice quiet. “You’re right.”

Bucky’s already come to the conclusion that soul-marks aren’t definitive, that they don’t control his life. He’d already decided not to let his marks for Tony influence their relationship; it seems that Tony wasn’t going to let him, regardless.

#

Natasha’s sleeping on her couch when Bucky finally gets back up there; she wakes instantly when he walks in the room.

“New arm,” she says, yawning. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says, sitting down next to her.

“How’s it feel? Compared to the last one?”

“Lighter,” Bucky responds. “Stronger, as well.”

Natasha laughs, wiggling her feet into Bucky’s lap. “Did Tony put his usual tricks into it?”

Bucky snorts and presses a button. Natasha looks delighted as the room is filled with music. “He also wanted to put some weapons in but settled for a secret compartment for a knife.”

“You’re enough of a weapon, anyway,” Natasha says.

“Yeah, well I’m trying not to be,” Bucky reminds her. “Anyway, what’s on for dinner? I was thinking I could make us some fried rice.”

Natasha hums in agreement and goes back to sleep while Bucky prepares their meal. Later, after they’ve eaten, and both gone their separate ways- Natasha down to the gym, and Bucky to his room- he pulls out another book he’d stolen from Maximoff’s room. He’d googled it, and the note spoiling his book was indeed correct, so he’d decided to try again.

He’s selected an older novel this time, one of Agatha Christie’s first releases. It’s calming, Bucky thinks, reading a book set in the time period he used to live in, written by someone who was there as well. The book is fast paced, and Bucky’s read almost a third of it before he looks over at his clock and realises he should have been sleeping for the past hour and a half.

When he wakes up the next afternoon, having slept the morning away, there’s a sticky note in between the pages in the place of the bookmark he’d also stolen from Maximoff’s room. The sticky note is dinosaur shaped and has writing on it in the same purple pen; THE MURDERER IS DR. SHEPPARD.

Over the next few weeks, the ending of every book Bucky picks up is ruined before he gets anywhere near the last page. He tries a litany of different things to figure out who it is; Natasha’s ruled out when books are still spoiled the week she’s away on a mission in China, Bucky crosses Wanda off his list when he starts actually buying his books rather than stealing them from her room, Steve and Sam were never _on_ the list because they’re both terrible liars, and Bucky doesn’t think Vision or Tony are the ones doing this.

He starts suspecting Spider-Man after his third visit to the compound; his voice is really young sounding, and Bucky thinks pranks would be right up his alley. But then he clarifies with Rhodes that Tony had only just brought him into the fold; he hadn’t been around when the notes started appearing.

Rhodes, Hope and Scott aren’t at the compound often enough to be doing this, and Bucky’s running out of suspects. He starts to re-suspect Natasha when he sees her going over her notes with a purple pen, but if she’s the one doing it then it must mean she has help, and he has to find out who it is before accusing her.

“It’s infuriating,” Bucky complains one Friday morning. Nora’s hiding a smile, and Bucky scowls at her.

“Let’s look at the positives,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “Somebody obviously feels comfortable enough with you to pull these little pranks. And here you were, worried they all were still afraid of the assassin side of you.”

The scowl on Bucky’s face deepens. “They _should_ be scared,” he tells her, and she laughs.

 


	4. autumn (part two)

On the second weekend in September, Natasha disappears from the compound for her monthly visit to the Barton farm. Bucky spends all of ten minutes surprised that he’s been left alone without a babysitter and then Sam knocks on his bedroom door.

“It’s three in the morning,” Bucky says, when he answers the door. Sam looks disgustingly bright for this time of day.

“I couldn’t sleep; Friday said you and Stark were the only two awake, and I figured you were the lesser of two evils,” is Sam’s response.

Bucky scowls at him. “I’ve spent decades as the world’s most infamous assassin,” he reminds Sam. “In what world am I considered less dangerous than Tony Stark?”

“Technically,” Sam starts, as he elbows his way past Bucky and into his room. “It wasn’t actually  _you_ doing the assassinating. Also, I don’t have clearance for Stark’s lab, so I couldn’t get in there even if I wanted. Which I don’t, by the way. I know Romanoff says it’s just a normal lab, albeit a bit more chaotic, but I’m still not convinced.”

Bucky blinks at him. “I was down in his lab just the other week,” he says. “Nat’s mostly right, but surely you’ve been there before to see it yourself?”

Sam shakes his head as he makes himself comfortable on the ground, leaning against Bucky’s bed. Bucky, for his part, flops back down on the bed, jostling Sam. “Natasha and Banner are the only two who have ever really had consistent access down there, from what Steve’s said. But I guess that it’s not surprising that Stark would let you down, considering.” He waves his hand in the direction of Bucky’s chest, referring to Bucky’s soul mark. 

“I guess,” Bucky agrees. “Considering.”

“Anyway, I heard Natasha sneak out about an hour ago, and thought I’d come see what you were up to,” Sam says, and Bucky fixes him with a look.

“No, you didn’t.”

Sam grins. “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t sleep, and I asked Friday what everyone else was up to; she told me that Natasha had left and that you weren’t sleeping. I figured we could keep each other company.” Bucky raises his eyebrow, and Sam sighs. “I wasn’t asked to come and check in on you, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Bucky says, and Sam scowls at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that pitiful looks you send Nat’s way when you think she isn’t looking. It’s pathetic.”

“I don’t think I need advice from a guy who has only had two conversations with his soulmate,” Sam retorts, tugging on the tattered sleeves of his jumper. “Especially considering one of those conversations was you admitting to murdering his parents.”

“Low blow,” Bucky replies; Sam only looks mildly apologetic. “How long have you known Nat was your soulmate?”

“Not until you shot her,” Sam answers. “We were taken to see Fury afterwards, and Steve was off crying about you, or something, and she was being treated. I went to shower and a bouquet of flowers had appeared on my ribs; I googled flower meanings, matched up the pictures, and most of them were things you’d expect. Unrequited love, secret love, caution, danger, sacrifice, ambition, passion, deceitful charms.” Bucky snorts, and Sam laughs. “Yeah, it didn’t take me all too long to connect the dots. She’s never mentioned it though, so I gotta think it’d a one-sided kind of deal.”

Bucky sighs. “Well, join the club,” he mutters, and Sam smiles sort of sadly at him. He’s huddling into himself, pulling his sleeves out until they cover his hands. His jumper is way too big for him and looks well worn. Bucky knows without having to ask that it used to belong to Riley.

“So did I,” Sam replies. “I miss him so much that it hurts to breathe, sometimes,” Sam admits, his voice cracking. Bucky doesn’t say anything, because no words can make that statement any less true, any less painful. They’ve talked a lot about Riley, about how Sam spends his time helping other soldiers heal while never really spending time focusing on fixing himself. Sam has quickly become one of Bucky’s closest friends, and part of that is due to how unalike he and Steve are. But the selflessness, the stubbornness- they share that.  

“You can stay here, if you want,” Bucky offers, throwing his extra blanket down to him. Sam doesn’t look at him, eyes fixed on his hands. “I’d recommend sleeping on the lounge though. The floor can't be very comfortable."

Sam shuffles around, pulling his blanket tighter around him. "That's the point," he replies. They’re silent for a really long time, and Bucky would think that Sam had fallen asleep if he couldn't hear how uneven his breathing was.

"I used to think that I'd die if I lost Steve," Bucky says, when the silence has become unbearable. It's suffocating him; they're both lying in a room together, silent, both thinking about their respective nightmares. Bucky's not sure if the pounding noise he can hear is his heart or Sam's. "And then I did. I lost him, and I died and somehow, I'm still here. I'm still alive, kind of, and I'm getting better every day. I used to think that having a mark for someone other than Steve would be the worst thing in the world. I didn't change my clothes for two weeks after our marks disappeared. I didn't want to see another mark on me. I didn't want to belong to anyone the way I used to belong to Steve."

"Steve's not even that great," is Sam's response. Bucky knows that Sam is half in love with everyone he meets, and Steve is no exception, but he still manages to sound like he’s on Bucky’s side in this regardless.

"Well, I know that  _now_ ," Bucky snorts. Sam lifts his eyes to look up at Bucky; the room is dark, and there isn't enough moonlight filtering in the room for Sam to see Bucky's face properly. Bucky, with his improved vision, doesn't have that same luxury. The look on Sam's face- Bucky hasn't seen a man look so tortured since he saw men  _actually_ being tortured back in the 40s. "It'll get better, Wilson. I know everyone says it, and I know it doesn't help. It didn't help me, back during the war, but I think that's because I didn't let it."

"It feels... wrong, to want to get better. Because getting better means moving on and moving on means forgetting. Riley deserves better than that," Sam says. 

"Yeah, he does," Bucky agrees. "But moving on doesn't always mean forgetting. I haven't forgotten Steve." He pauses when Sam snorts. "Okay, well, I  _mostly_ haven't forgotten him. The point is- you're allowed to be happy, Sam. I didn’t know Riley, but I know enough to think he’d want that for you."

Sam doesn't reply for a long time, but when he does, his voice is thick with emotion. "I'm taking you to my next VA meeting; that speech was too good to just be used on me.”

Bucky laughs as he lies back down; he’s asleep within minutes of his head hitting the pillow.

#

The next morning, Bucky and Sam head down to the communal kitchen for breakfast. Bucky’s exhausted and is practically falling asleep over his toast when Sam heads off to a meeting of some sort.

“Oh, I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” Tony says, startling Bucky awake. “There’s a meeting on.”

“I signed the Accords, but I’m only on the team as a last resort,” Bucky explains, stifling a yawn.

“Ah, the Banner Clause,” Tony nods, sliding into the chair across from Bucky and helping himself to a piece of toast off Bucky’s plate.

“How come you’re not in the meeting?”

“I’ve decided to take a break for a while,” Tony answers. “I think maybe being on a team is not a great idea for me at the moment. I’ve stepped back to weapon manufacturing, for now. What are you doing, in the meantime?”

“I’m still not entirely sure,” Bucky says, taking another bite of his toast. “Nora’s been helping me look into charity work; I know Stark Industries does a lot of good work, but I think I want to do something a little different.”

Tony perks up, intrigued. “Ooh, like what?”

Bucky shrugs, blushing. “Something with kids, I think. I was always pretty good with my younger siblings and their friends. I don’t know if I would be now, but I think I’d like to find out. Also…”

“Also,” Tony repeats, when Bucky pauses.

“Also, maybe kids who are differently abled. I know I’ve never really had to be one-armed, but I think I could still help kids who’ve lost limbs as well,” Bucky says, looking down at his cup of tea.  

Tony’s smiling when Bucky finally looks up at him. “I think that’s a really good idea,” he says softly. “After I made your arm, Pepper and I have been working on a line of prosthetics. Maybe we could figure something out together; one bird, two stones and whatnot.”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Bucky says, after a beat. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Tony blinks at him, clearly surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m generally a nice guy.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I killed your parents, and then Steve kept it from you because of me. It’d be understandable if you didn’t want me around.”

Tony sighs, stealing Bucky’s cup of tea and draining it in two sips. “I already told you I’d forgiven you for that,” he says after a long pause. “Or at least, I’m trying. I know it wasn’t you who did it, and I know you never would have done it if you’d had the choice. Honestly, I’m angrier at Rogers for keeping it from me than I am with you for actually  _doing_ it, but I’m trying to get over that as well.”

“He was your friend, and he lied to you,” Bucky says. “It’s understandable if it takes you awhile to move on from that.”

“We were friends in the way that we’d know each other for too long and too intimately to not be,” Tony shrugged. “Our friendship only ever existed on the surface, or the battlefield. Rogers and I… we’ll never get back what we had. And we’ll probably never be the sort of friends we once wanted to be. But we’re trying.” The  _for you_ goes unspoken, but Bucky picks up on it anyway. “So are you two, I hear.” Bucky frowns, and Tony laughs. “Friday’s a relentless gossip,” he explains, and Bucky rolls his eyes up at the ceiling.

"We’re working through some things,” Bucky tells him. “But it's... frustrating," he adds, huffing out a breath. "Steve will offer up all this information about me from before like it's all concrete facts, like once I remember it, remember  _me_ , I'll just- go back to being Bucky."

"And you're not him, not anymore," Tony fills in, and Bucky grimaces.

"Steve said I used to be a night person. That I would be up until three or four most nights, and then I'd sleep the day away. He said I hated mornings. But- Tony, I  _love_ mornings. I like watching the sun rise, I like the cool air when I go for my morning run. I like going to sleep early. Steve just- he can't deal with the fact that I'm not what he remembers. That I'm not what he  _wants_ me to be."

"Have you tried telling him this?" Tony asks, carefully. Bucky just rolls his eyes. "Right, of course," Tony says, wincing. "Have you tried having someone  _else_ tell him? Like- like a therapist, maybe?"

Bucky sighs. "He’s seeing someone, I think. Or at least he was planning on it. He’s trying, I know that, but he just… he just doesn't  _get_  it. And the thing is, I tried, at first. I stayed up late and slept all day and I was miserable. I ate porridge for breakfast because Steve said it was my favourite."

Tony wrinkles his nose. "Porridge is disgusting."

"Exactly!" Bucky yells, pointing a finger at him in vindication. "But when I tried telling that to Steve, he just gave me the sad puppy dog look, and said I just needed to try again."

Tony's quiet for a long time. "I think you should probably complain about Rogers to somebody else; I'm struggling to be neutral and I don't want to bad-mouth your best friend."

"I think I'm doing that enough for the both of us," Bucky reminds him with a sigh. “But you’re right, this isn’t fair on you. I’m sorry.”

Tony looks surprised before he turns around and buries his face in his work again. “No need to apologise, it’s all good. I’ve got some work to finish now, Wilson’s wings need updating and-”

“Oh, right,” Bucky says, frowning at the back of Tony’s head. “Yeah, that’s fine, I’ve, um. I should get going, anyway. I’ll see you later, I guess?”

“Since we both live here, I’d say that’s a good guess,” Tony agrees causing Bucky to roll his eyes; Tony had managed to avoid him for months when Bucky had first moved in. They both know he could keep avoiding him if that’s what he wanted.

“Right,” Bucky says. Tony still hasn’t turned around; he just holds up a hand in a wave as Bucky steps into the elevator Friday must have brought down for him. Bucky knows that forgiveness is a messy thing; he’s not expecting Tony’s any time soon. But it’s still upsetting to see the evidence of Tony’s feelings for him so clearly. “Can you take me to the gym, Friday? I think I need to work some of this extra energy off.”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes,” Friday says; the button for the third-floor lights up. Bucky spends two hours working out; he manages to destroy two punching bags and he’s dripping with sweat by the time he gets back home. Natasha wrinkles her nose at him when he steps into the kitchen to get some water.

“Disgusting,” she says, and Bucky laughs as he shakes his head at her; sweat from his hair flies off and lands on her cheeks. “I could kill you without leaving a trace,” Natasha says, without even blinking. “Don’t forget that.”

“Well geez,” Bucky says. “How could I ever?”

#

The next few months fly by; Bucky continues with his therapy three times a week and grows closer with the Avengers in his spare time. He still seems to be sleeping more often, but he’s not as exhausted anymore, so he counts it as a win. After the thirty sixth book is spoiled for him, Bucky gives up on reading and joins Sam and Steve after dinner to watch trashy television shows.

“I prefer  _Gossip Girl_ ,” he decides, three seasons into  _Pretty Little Liars_. Sam, a devout fan of all shows directed at teenage girls, looks horribly offended. Steve, who is a lot more partial to comedy shows just rolls his eyes and goes back to scrolling his phone.

“What are you doing over there? I’ve never seen you so attached to your phone before,” Sam says, throwing his pillow at Steve.

Steve catches it without even looking up and smiles sunnily when Sam scowls at him. “Christmas is only like, three weeks away,” he explains. “And I still haven’t got Nat a gift.”

“That’s a tough one,” Sam says, frowning. “You live with her, what does she want?” He asks, turning to Bucky who shrugs.

“I’ve been cleared to live on my own,” he says, grinning. “My gift to her is moving out.”

“Darn it,” Steve says. “There’s no way I can top that.” Bucky rolls his eyes, but his grin widens; he and Steve have slowly been getting back to friendship. It’s been hard, with all this love and loss and heartache in the way, but Bucky’s just glad they’re making any progress at all. “What about you, Sam? Do you have anything for her yet?”

Sam shakes his head casually, but his eyes are darting between Bucky and Steve with worry. It’s at this moment that Bucky realises that Steve has no idea about Sam’s soul mark for Natasha. “I’m giving her what I’m giving everyone else,” Sam says, after a moment. “The gift of my presence.”

“Wow,” Bucky drawls. “That might even be better than mine.” Steve rolls his eyes, but the suspicious look that was lighting up his eyes has dimmed, so Bucky counts it as a win.

#

On Christmas Eve, Natasha drags Bucky down to the communal lounge room to exchange gifts.

“I’ve already given my gifts out,” Bucky protests.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Well, you can sit and watch everyone else open theirs, then. Wanda and Vision have already disappeared for their first Christmas together as a couple, and Tony’s locked himself in his lab. I’m not letting you ditch us as well.”

Bucky sighs, but follows her downstairs anyway; he knows when to pick his battles. He's surprised to find a handful of gifts addressed to him under the Christmas tree. Predictably, there's something from Steve, but surprisingly, there's also a pile from Natasha, Sam and Scott. Sam and Scott have gone halves in a giant red and gold  _I heart_   _Iron Man_  blanket. Bucky tries to be annoyed by this, but the blanket is really soft and cozy, so he's mostly just thankful. Natasha gifts him a few Russian crime novels; they look pretty trashy, but Bucky can't wait to curl up in front of the fire later and get stuck into them.

Even more surprisingly, Tony comes in after they've all finished exchanging gifts and shoves a box in Bucky's hands.

"Merry Christmas," Tony says, without smiling. Bucky is so shocked that he just stares at the gift-wrapped box before Natasha elbows him in the stomach.

"Oh," he says, finally looking up at Tony. "Um, thank you." Tony rolls his eyes, and gestures to the box; Bucky pulls at the ribbon and then rips the wrapping paper off. Looking inside the box, he feels his face redden in anger. "It's been you this entire time?" He says, eyes snapping up to Tony's face. He scowls at Tony who blinks at him in shock. The lights on their Christmas tree are changing colours every few seconds; at the moment, Tony's face is bathed in purples. 

"What's me?" Tony replies. "The gift? I literally just handed you. It says  _from Tony_." Bucky's scowl deepens as he pulls the post-it note out of the box. "Dan is Gossip Girl," Tony reads, when Bucky turns the note around to him.

"Why the hell do you keep spoiling every book I read, every show I watch? That's  _such_ a dick move, man."

"I haven't been spoiling anything, what the hell are you talking about?" Tony asks, looking baffled. 

"This," Bucky says, waving the note in Tony's face. Around him, he notices Natasha, Scott and Steve all tense up, the way they always do when he gets a little angry. "Somebody has been ruining the ending of every book I read, and I've been trying to figure out who for  _months_ \- I've set traps and interrogated everyone, and Friday's even been monitoring who's been going in and out of my room." He pauses, and scowls again at Tony. "But of course, you've been getting her to lie for you. I can't believe this!"

Steve fixes Tony with his  _I'm disappointed in you_ face, and this seems to jolt Tony out of his silence and into laughter. "This isn't funny!" Bucky protests, and Tony's laughter trails off.

"I haven't been spoiling anything, calm down Elsa," Tony says, and Bucky scowls because he's had movies occasionally spoiled for him as well. "I'm only laughing because I didn't realise Winter had such a great sense of humour."

Natasha, who had relaxed with Tony's laughter, tenses again at his words. Bucky watches her out of the corner of his eye; the confused look she's been sporting for the past few weeks has cleared. He watches as Tony looks around the room at Rhodes, Sam, and Scott, who are all looking between him and Bucky, confused. Steve is somehow managing to look both confused and disappointed, and Bucky's slightly impressed. 

"Oh," Tony says, as he begins to fidget. "You didn't realise."

"Didn't realise what?" Bucky questions.

"That the Winter Soldier had been coming out," Tony answers. 

Bucky drops the post-it note and the box it came in as if burned as Steve jumps up from his place on the couch, pointing an accusing finger in Tony's direction. "You said you'd removed all traces of Bucky's trigger words from HYDRA databases. You said he'd be safe, with that information destroyed."

Tony looks calmer than Bucky knows he is; he can see Tony's hands trembling slightly, and the pounding of his heart is deafening. "I said I'd remove all of the information about the Winter Soldier from the HYDRA and SHEILD databases that  _you_ dumped online. Even I can't destroy written copies, and although I’ve been putting in my best efforts, I still haven’t managed to track every HYDRA agent down. And Barnes  _is_ safe here; Friday monitors everything and everyone in this compound. If someone says more than two of the trigger words in one conversation, Friday will alert Rhodes, Romanoff and myself, and then deploy the Iron Legion on them. They wouldn't even get to the third word, trust me."

"Then how is the Winter Soldier coming out?" Natasha asks, placing a calming hand on Steve's shoulder. 

Tony shrugs. "I'm not a psychologist." 

"How do you even know the Soldier's coming out?" Sam asks. "Doesn't he get all- murdery, normally? We haven't had any incidents."

Tony shrugs again. "I guess he's over that, now. Winter's been visiting my lab for months now, he's mostly a normal guy. I figured you guys knew that he was coming out more often lately." 

"He killed your parents," Bucky says, his voice shaking. "And you're  _friends_  with him?" It was one thing when Tony couldn’t forgive him for taking his parents away, but now he’s forgiven the Soldier and not Bucky and it  _hurts_.

Tony shrugs again, looking distinctly uncomfortable. In the background, Bucky distantly notices that Sam and Scott are both shuffling around as if uneasy. He doesn't blame them. "I mean, I guess I am," Tony says, mulling it over. "He makes me dinner occasionally, and we watch movies together every now and then. He's even stopped hacking into Friday's servers to get into the lab; although he has taken to trying to sneak in through the vents sometimes, but that's only a little bit annoying."

"You hardly ever talk to  _Bucky_ , who didn't  _do anything wrong_ , and yet you're  _friends_ with the soldier?" Steve says, his voice shrill. 

"He apologised, I forgave him, and we moved on," Tony explains, avoiding looking at Steve. "And I never said I had a problem with Barnes, don't go putting words into my mouth."

"Well, this is getting kind of personal," Scott says, standing up. Sam scoffs, following him.

"He means awkward," Sam corrects, smirking at Bucky. "So we're gonna leave now. Widow, you coming?" Natasha raises an eyebrow at Steve, who nods at her as if to say  _it's okay, I've got this_ , and then she gracefully rises and follows Sam and Scott out of the room. They pause for a moment at the door, waiting for Steve and Rhodes, but even Bucky knows that's a losing battle; Natasha pushes them out after a moment. 

Bucky takes a deep breath to calm himself. "What's he like?" He asks Tony, who peers at him. 

"You really didn't know?" He asks. Bucky and Steve both shake their heads, and Tony's shoulders relax, slightly. "Well, I don't know what to tell you. He's mostly a normal guy, from what I've seen. He likes musical movies and he’s really smart and my couches are filled with the un-popped popcorn kernels that he keeps shoving between the seats, but he's an alright guy."

"He's an  _assassin_ ," Steve protests, and Tony rolls his eyes. 

"He was brainwashed just as much as Bucky over here," Tony retorts. "I don't see why Bucky gets a pass for everything yet you're not willing to give Winter the same courtesy." 

Steve sort of sputters back at Tony for a second, which causes Rhodes to grin. "You call him Winter?" Bucky asks.

Tony nods. "He asked me to, after I said that I was sick of calling him Soldier."

Steve must manage to get his voice back, because he turns to Tony with fire in his eyes. "I still don't understand how you can just  _forgive_ the Soldier, yet you won't accept Bucky's apology! He practically begged for forgiveness the first time you two met and you’ve spent the entire time he’s lived here avoiding him, yet the Soldier says  _I'm sorry_ once and you just- what, move on? What the  _hell_ Tony?"

"Steve, can it," Bucky snaps, frowning at his best friend; from his position on the couch, Rhodes is doing the same.

"You know, it's kind of a shame that you won't ever really be able to meet Winter; you're a lot alike," Tony observes. He tilts his head to the side as if thinking. "Or, at least, sometimes anyway. Listen, I have nothing against Barnes, he knows that. Just because we aren’t running off into the sunset holding hands doesn’t mean I want him dead or anything,” Tony says, turning to Steve; Bucky can’t help but snicker at the look on Steve’s face.

Steve draws himself up to his full height, clearly readying himself to go toe to toe with Tony, before Bucky stands up and inserts himself between the two men. "Steve, enough," he snaps, frowning at him. "This isn't your fight."

"This isn't even  _a_  fight," Tony points out, from behind Bucky. 

"Steve, could you just- go away, for a little while," Bucky says, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'll come find you later, alright?" Steve's face falls, and Bucky finds that his first instinct is no longer to fix it, to stop Steve from feeling any pain. He's almost proud of himself. 

"If that's what you want," Steve says, after a moment. He pauses on his way out and turns back to look at Tony suspiciously. "I'll be in my room, just down the hall if you need." He tells Bucky; the words come across as calm and caring, but they all know it's a thinly veiled threat directed at Tony.

For his part, Tony just smiles winningly at him. "Gee, Cap, that's so comforting," he says, and Bucky snorts as Steve scowls at him before leaving the room. Rhodes follows after him quietly, clearly deciding that Bucky isn't as much of a threat. It's kind of comforting, Bucky thinks, that Rhodes doesn’t seem to consider him a threat. 

"What's he really like?" Bucky asks, after a long moment of silence. "Winter, I mean."

Tony shrugs again, sitting down on the couch closest to him. His body has relaxed now that everyone has left; Bucky's surprised to see that he doesn't seem tense any more. "He's a lot like you," Tony repeats. "And he's totally different, too. He's fascinated by all my tech; I swear my bots all like him better than me. Friday definitely does, anyway."

"For the record, I've never said that," Friday says, her voice teasing. Bucky grins at the ceiling as he sits down on the couch opposite Tony, and even Tony smiles up fondly. 

"He loves musicals, as I said," Tony continues. "He watched  _Grease_ three times last month, and I found him listening to the  _Mamma Mia!_ soundtrack on repeat while he was in the gym the other week. He'll pretty much eat anything you put in front of him, but he's on a mission to figure out his favourite foods. So far, he really likes strawberry ice-cream and potato bake. Not together, of course, that would be disgusting. But he sure does love them separately. He's sarcastic and witty and really intelligent, and I had to update Friday's coding four times because he kept hacking in to get into my lab. He has his own code now, but he still enjoys trying to get in through other means."

Tony sounds almost... fond, when talking about the Soldier. "Nat said you used to wear tank-tops when you were building things," Bucky says, and Tony raises his eyebrows. "You don't do that, anymore. Do you have a mark for him? I'm guessing the mark on my wrists, when we first met, that was  _his_ mark for you?"

"You're a lot more intelligent that anyone gives you credit for," Tony says, almost approvingly. He unbuttons his shirt, pulling it to the side to give Bucky a view of his right shoulder. The snow storm that's covering Tony's entire shoulder, stretching across his collar bone, is  _moving_. Bucky's heard of moving marks before, but they're pretty rare, from what he's read. The white snowflakes etched into Tony's skin look like they're falling down; it's one of the most beautiful marks Bucky has ever seen. "It appeared the same day my mark for you did," Tony says, voice quiet. "You've never asked about that either."

"I didn't think it was my place," Bucky replies. "I figured you didn't want this, didn't want  _me_. I thought that this was a one-way sort of thing."

Tony sighs. "You know, considering I'm a genius, and you're not all that dim either, we've both been pretty stupid about this." Bucky just hums in agreement. "It's not, by the way," Tony continues. "A one-way thing, I mean. I have a mark for both of you. Just like both of you have a mark for me."

"Two marks," Bucky corrects, tapping the small leaf behind his ear. Tony nods his head, conceding. "Can I- would you-"

"It's on my leg," Tony interrupts. "I'm going to have to take off my pants, if that's okay." Bucky manages to nod his head pretty calmly, but Tony still snorts anyway. Tony slowly unbuttons his jeans, pulling his pants down over his thighs. Bucky almost misses the mark on his left calf, he's too busy staring at the way Tony's leg muscles tense as he wiggles his pants off. 

"It's…”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, as they both look at the compass that covers most of Tony’s thigh. “It always points in whatever direction you are.”

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky says, and Tony nods in agreement. “Does the leaf stay? When he… takes over?”

Tony nods. “Yeah, that’s never gone away. But these marks, all six of them, they don’t have to mean anything, not if you don’t want them to.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Bucky admits, quietly. His eyes are still fixed on Tony’s thigh; Tony blushes when he realises and pulls his pants up. Bucky might not know much, but he knows that he's filled with disappointment when he can no longer look at Tony's uncovered thighs. 

“Well, here’s something that might help you figure it out,” Tony says, picking up the box Bucky had dropped earlier. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, handing the box over.

Bucky reaches inside and pulls out a white t-shirt. On it, is a hand-drawn picture of three smiling children; one of them is missing a leg, another one is missing both her arms, and the third is in a wheelchair.

“I thought you could help me think of a name, if this sounds like something you’d like to be a part of,” Tony says, after Bucky spends a few minutes staring silently down at the shirt. “I’ve already started the prosthetics part of this project, but if you’re not interested in helping running the charity, Pepper will hire someone else.

“No,” Bucky says, softly. “I… I’m interested.” Tony nods his head sort of awkwardly. “This is… Tony, thank you. I think this might be the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Tony’s cheeks redden slightly, and Bucky smiles. “It’s nothing,” Tony protests. “You deserve it, and it’ll be great for Stark Industries as well.”

This is the problem with Tony: he insists on treating him like a person, when sometimes, Bucky feels like so much less than that. This is the problem with Tony: he makes Bucky want to be better than he knows a Winter Soldier can be. Tony makes him want things that he knows he can never have.

This is the problem with Tony: he makes Bucky believe he can have them anyway. 

“It’ll be great for me, too, I think,” Bucky says after a moment. Tony just smiles weakly back at him, hand absentmindedly running over his thigh.

“Yeah, that’s good too, of course,” Tony says, before standing up. “Listen, I’ve gotta get back. I just came to give you that, really. I’m sorry about dropping the whole multiple personality thing on you, but hey, at least now you know who ruined all those books for you.”

“Oh, of course, that’s definitely a bonus,” Bucky agrees, standing up as well. “Um, the gift I had for you, it’s still-”

“I don’t need a gift,” Tony interrupts him, wincing. “Billionaire, and all that. I don’t really need anything, so-”

“Right, sure,” Bucky says, frowning. Tony’s heart is racing again; Bucky can hear it from across the room. "I'll see you later, then."

"Yes," Tony agrees, nodding his head almost frantically. "Later." Bucky falls back on the couch when Tony leaves and Natasha and Sam slip into the room moments later. 

"Oh, Bucky," Sam says, eyes softening. "What happened?"

Bucky looks up at them both; Natasha winces at the look on his face. "I don't really know," he answers. They both sit down on the couch on either side of him; Natasha wraps an arm around him and Sam grips onto his leg. 

"It'll be okay," Sam tells him. 

"I think Tony hates me," Bucky says miserably. Tony keeps telling him he doesn't, keeps saying  _I forgive you_ but he looks at Bucky like he wants nothing more than to walk away from him and never come back, like he can't stand the thought of being in the same room as him. Every time Bucky thanks him for something Tony looks like he wishes he'd never given it to him in the first place. 

“Don't be ridiculous, Tony likes you,” Natasha tells him. “But he doesn’t want to, and he’s pretty good at not wanting things that he doesn’t want to want.” 

"That doesn't make any sense," Bucky says, words muffled with his head resting on Sam's shoulder. 

"You know what I think?" Sam says, after a moment of quiet. "I think we should get away for a little bit. You've been cleared to live on your own, right? I'm sure we can get clearance to go away for the weekend."

Natasha flicks Bucky on the arm. "Wait, you're moving out?"

"Merry Christmas," Bucky tells her. He's aiming for happy, but he knows his voice doesn't quite get there. "Can we go somewhere warm? I'm getting a little bit sick of the cold."

"South Africa it is," Sam says, and Bucky snorts against his shoulder. He can hear Steve hovering in the hallway, can hear Rhodes and Tony's low murmuring in the elevator. Bucky thinks a week away might be exactly what he needs.

"Let's do it," he agrees. Sam squeezes his thigh in support, and Natasha smiles at him, and Bucky thinks that this must be what friendship feels like. 


	5. autumn (part three)

They end up in Australia, instead of South Africa. The sun breathes life back into Bucky’s bones; he hasn’t felt this warm in years, in decades.

Bucky develops a tan and freckles etch their way across Natasha’s nose; one night, Bucky catches Sam looking at Natasha like he is a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. Natasha either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and Bucky can’t tell which one Sam wants to be true.

They spend their days at the beach, in museums, eating at restaurants, doing all the lame touristy things Sam can find. They sleep in adjoining motel rooms; Bucky’s is in between Sam and Natasha’s, which he thinks Natasha had done on purpose. It’s exhausting, being around two people who are marked for each other but don’t want to be, two people who are both in love with someone else and pretending not to be.

Steve calls him every second day; Sam and Nat have both perfected the art of making themselves scarce when Bucky’s phone rings.  

“How’s everyone going over there?” Steve asks, like he does every phone call.

“Fine,” Bucky replies, like he does every time. “And back there?”

“Fine,” Steve parrots. “Rhodes has been around a lot more, lately. Apparently, something’s been happening up in space; Thor got in contact with Tony yesterday. Looks like we’ll be having some visitors soon.”

“Cool,” Bucky replies. “I’m excited to meet him.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a moment before Steve breaks it with a sigh. “Bruce is with him; Loki too. I’ve already told Clint, who had a few choice words about it, but you might want to talk to Nat. She and Bruce have a bit of a history.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Bucky says, and Steve sighs again.

“Yeah, it was… she doesn’t talk about it, really. It didn’t end well.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. There was a lot of tension there, for a while. I think he might have liked her, and I think she tried to like him back, but…”

Bucky’s the one who sighs this time. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, it really wasn’t. And then Bruce vanished for a while, and she blamed herself, even though there was a lot of other contributing factors, and we haven’t seen him in ages, and he’s just shown up on Asgard, apparently, and helped defeat Thor's evil sister with the help of Thor's evil brother, and also helped bring about the alien version of Armageddon. I didn’t really get all of the details.”

“Sounds like he’s had an interesting few months,” Bucky observes, and Steve laughs again.

“Haven’t we all?” He says; Bucky snorts. “Listen, I’ve gotta get going. I’ve got dinner with Vision and Wanda.” Bucky wrinkles his nose at the mention of Maximoff, and he feels Steve’s disapproval through the phone. “I really think that if you just gave her a  _chance-_ ”

“She was HYDRA,” Bucky interrupts. “She fucked with all of your heads; she was one of those  _contributing factors_ that caused Banner to leave. I don’t see why  _you_ gave her a chance.”

“Because nobody else ever had,” Steve answers. “And anyway, it’s better than she’s on our side, rather than fighting against us, right?” Bucky’s silent, and Steve sighs again. “I’ll talk to you later, Buck.”

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky responds. “See ya, Steve.”

He hangs up the phone and pockets it before flopping down on his bed. Natasha slips into his room minutes later, and Sam follows within the hour.

“What do you want to do today?” Natasha asks. Bucky shrugs, the movement jostling Sam who’s lying next to him.

“There’s apparently a little petting zoo type thing about two hours from here,” Sam suggests, jabbing Bucky in the side with his elbow in retaliation. He's flipping through a tourist pamphlet he'd swiped from the lobby of their hotel. “There’s a lot of restaurants and bakeries in the town as well.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky replies. Natasha screws up her nose but shrugs anyway.

“You’re driving,” she tells Sam, before hopping off the bed and heading to her own room to change. When she’s ready, the all clamber into the rental car Natasha had found for them; Natasha immediately falls asleep in the back seat while Sam drives. Bucky sits in the front seat, next to Sam, and ignores the little glances Sam is shooting Natasha in the rearview mirror when he thinks Bucky isn't looking.

He's texting Tony, a response to the conversation Tony had started the day after Bucky had left the compound. Tony had messaged Bucky at three in the morning New York time with a photo of Steve asleep on a plate of waffles; there was syrup in his hair, but he looked more peaceful than Bucky had seen him in years. Bucky had responded with a photo of Natasha five minutes after waking up; her hair was sticking out in every direction and her face was lined with marks from her pillow. 

 _I genuinely thought she woke up with perfectly straight hair_ , Tony had responded.  _It's nice to see her a little bit humanised occasionally_.

Since then, they'd been exchanging candid photos of Steve, Sam, Vision, Nat and Rhodes with ridiculous captions. Bucky was currently attaching a photo of Sam yelling at a pigeon who had left shit on the car's windscreen; he captioned it  _wilson family arguments._

Tony doesn't respond straight away, so Bucky switches off his phone and closes his eyes, joining Natasha in sleep. They’re both violently awoken an hour and a half later when Sam turns the car around very suddenly. “What on earth are you doing?” Natasha asks, scowling as she flicks the back of Sam’s head.

“Sorry,” Sam laughs, swatting her hand away. “I couldn’t help myself though, I’ve had a craving since I saw the sign a few miles back.”

He pulls into the carpark and Natasha rolls her eyes. “Couldn’t we just buy some from the grocery store?”

“It’s not the same,” Sam protests. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Natasha sighs, but follows him out of the car regardless. They spend a few minutes stretching out their kinks from sleeping while sitting up, while Sam heads inside to pay.

“If we all fill these up, it’s about eleven dollars each,” Sam says, grinning. Bucky raises an eyebrow at him.

“How on earth are we going to eat this many?”

“We’ll send them home,” Sam replies, shrugging. “Tony was on a health kick awhile back, right?” 

"Yeah, when he thought he was  _dying_ ," Natasha counters. 

"Well, we're all dying, so he can damn well eat some fruit that we've lovingly picked for him," Sam says; Bucky and Natasha both roll their eyes and Sam’s grin widens.

“Follow me!” He instructs, leading them down to the field.

Twenty minutes later, they’re picking strawberries. It’s kind of soothing, if Bucky’s honest, and it’s such nice weather for it. He moves quicker than Sam and Nat and is a few rows ahead of them when Nat calls out to him.

“What do you want, James?” The thing is, Bucky doesn’t know what he wants. He spent so long wanting Steve that the idea of wanting something else,  _someone_ else is a foreign concept to him.

“I think I want to go home,” Bucky tells Natasha, after a long pause. Home. As though that word actually means something. Before, home meant Brooklyn, and then Steve. After, home was New York with Sam, with Nat. With Tony. Bucky doesn't know if that last part is entirely true, but he thinks he wants to find out.

“I meant for lunch.” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Oh,” Bucky says; a light blush covers his cheeks. “In that case, I’m feeling like pizza.”

“Pizza it is,” Sam says. “And then home.”

#

Natasha gets them on the next plane home, and Bucky sleeps for the entire flight. When he wakes up, Natasha and Sam are both awkwardly avoiding looking at each other; Natasha has her head buried in a book Bucky knows she finished last week, and Sam is pointedly staring out of the window with music blaring out of his headphones. 

"I feel like I should warn you," Bucky says, tapping Natasha on her arm. "Thor and Loki are on their way here."

She raises an eyebrow. "Someone should let Clint know."

"Steve's already on it," Bucky replies, fingers twitching. Natasha somehow arches her eyebrow even higher.

"Out with it," she commands; Bucky sighs. 

"Bruce is with them." The mildly surprised look on her face disappears, and within half a second, she looks devoid of any emotion. "Steve just wanted you to know. They should be here within the month"

"That's fine," she says, turning back to her book. Bucky momentarily thinks about pushing the subject but decides against it; he knows a little bit about wanting to forget things, forget people. He won't take that choice away from Natasha. 

"How long till we land?" He asks instead.

"Forty minutes or so," she answers without looking up from her book. Bucky sighs and closes his eyes again. The next time he wakes, they've landed and Natasha is pulling their luggage out of the overhead compartments. She passes both Bucky's and Sam's bags to them, swinging her own over her shoulder. 

Steve greets them when they finally make it off the plane, his face lighting up at the sight of them all. He pulls Bucky into a hug first, then Sam. By the time he turns to Natasha, she's disappeared. 

"Bathroom," Bucky supplies, when Steve turns to him with confused eyes. "Long flight and all."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Steve says, frowning. Sam, behind Steve, rolls his eyes, and Bucky sighs; It's going to be a long car ride back to the compound. 

Bucky switches his phone back on when they're in the car; a text from Tony is lighting up the screen. When he opens it, he finds a photo of Tony in his lab, holding his phone and laughing like Bucky's never seen him. He looks almost younger in his happiness, almost beautiful. 

There's no caption to accompany the photo; Bucky suspects that Friday has sent him some of the security surveillance footage. He makes a mental note to thank her. 

#

Vision and Maximoff are waiting for them when their car pulls into the compound; Sam, Nat and Steve stick around to chat while they unload their bags from the car. Bucky, for his part, nods hello at Vision, grabs the strawberries Natasha had snuck past customs, and walks away from them all without a word. He can feel Steve's disappointed gaze burning a hole in the back of his head, but he restrains himself from turning back.

"Hey, Friday, how are you?" Bucky asks when he walks inside. 

"I'm well, thank you. It's good to see you; you look well rested," Friday responds.

"I feel well rested," Bucky agrees. "I'm gonna head up to Nat's floor, could you ask her to bring my luggage when she comes up?"

"Actually," Friday starts. "We've prepared a new room for you, if you were interested. You were cleared to live on your on before you left; we weren't expecting you back today, but the room is almost ready for you."

Bucky smiles up at the ceiling. "Oh, wow. That'd be great, it'd be nice to have a bit of privacy. Should I stay with Nat until it's ready? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, there's just a little bit of work still being done on the kitchen. You should be okay to move in later tonight, but I'll keep you updated," Friday responds. "In the meantime, you could relax in the lounge room on the third floor."

"Thanks, Friday, that'd be great," he responds, making his way to the elevator Friday had brought down for him. When he gets inside, the usual silence is replaced with old rock music. "Are you trying something new out?"

"I've recently found out that most elevators play what's known as  _elevator music_ ," Friday replies. "Of course, that was too boring for certain people, so I was limited to only a small selection of genres."

"Good choice," Bucky says approvingly. "Who sings this?"

"Alanis Morissette," Friday answers. "I'm downloading it to your phone as we speak."

"You're a legend, Fri."

Friday sounds smug when she replies. "So I've been told."

"Oh, hey, thanks for the photo, by the way. It was... I liked it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Friday responds, causing a grin to spread across Bucky's face. 

When Bucky arrives on the third floor, he kicks his shoes off at the door and pads barefooted towards the kitchen. He's almost there when he notices Tony sitting at a piano that Bucky's never noticed before with a small grey and white cat that he didn't know they owned. 

“You’re back,” Tony says when he notices him, clearly stunned. The cat meows its own hello at Bucky. 

“We brought strawberries,” Bucky replies, holding out the container. Tony blinks at him.

“Oh,” he says. “Thanks." His hands twitch like he might reach out to take the container from Bucky, and too late Bucky remembers that Tony doesn't like to be handed things. 

"My bad," he says, stretching out past Tony and placing the container full of strawberries on top of the piano before turning to peer at Tony curiously.

“Are you trying to teach the cat how to play the piano?”

“No,” Tony says immediately. Then: “Why, do you think that would work?”

Bucky scoffs out a laugh, startling them both. “You’re absurd,” he says a moment later.

“It was your idea,” Tony retorts, looking offended.

"For real though, when did you get a cat?"

Tony shrugs. "She was living on the streets and kept following Spider-Man around; he's not allowed pets in his apartment so he brought her here."

Bucky holds his hand out for the cat to sniff; after a moment, she meows and rubs her head against his hand. "What's her name?"

Tony rolls his eyes. "Diana, after Wonder Woman. Kid knows an entire household of real superheroes and names this dumb cat after a fictional one, typical."

Bucky laughs. "They're good comics, though. He's got good taste."

Tony hums as the cat walks back over to him and flops onto his lap. "She's a good cat," he eventually concedes. "She likes you, she doesn't normally come this close to other people."

Bucky smiles. "I used to love cats," he explains. "I guess I still do; she can probably sense that. My sister, Rebecca, had one when we were growing up. He slept in my room most of the time, I think."

A tentative smile spreads across Tony's face. "That's cute." His smile falters and he sighs as he meets Bucky's eyes. "I don't mean to overstep, but... has Steve, or anyone, really, talked you through what happened to your family? After you were taken, I mean?"

Bucky shakes his head, frowning. "I haven't asked. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it."

"Nothing bad happened to your siblings, if that's what you mean," Tony responds, before frowning. "I mean, they're all... well, they-"

"They're dead," Bucky fills in with a sigh. "It's okay, you can say it. It's been seventy something years, I was expecting it."

Tony winces. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." He trails off and then shakes his head. "Both your brother and oldest sister had kids; you have lots of nieces and nephews out there. Most of them are older, and have moved away, but I found Rebecca's great granddaughter. She goes to NYU, and lives not too far from here."

Bucky blinks at him, shocked. "I... wow, I. Thank you."

Tony shrugs. "It's no big deal. I can give you her contact details, if you wanted."

"Yeah, that would be... really nice, thank you," Bucky stutters. Tony nods, and pulls his phone out of his pocket, typing away. A moment later Bucky's phone vibrates in his back pocket. "What do you know about her?"

"Her name's Harper Robinson," Tony says, pocketing his phone. "She's twenty-five, and has been studying on and off for the past five years. She's related to you on her father's side; he died about four years ago after a heart-attack. It's just her and her mum, now."

"So her dad was Rebecca's..."

"Grandson," Tony confirms. "Which makes her your great, great niece, I think." Bucky frowns, and Tony's lips curl up slightly. "Yeah, it's confusing. I whipped up a little family tree, it's been included in the info I sent you."

"Thanks, that'll be a big help," Bucky says with a sigh of relief. "I'm awful at family stuff."

"Join the club," Tony snorts under his breath. There's an awkwardly long silence before Tony jumps up, clapping his together. "Anyway, I should get back to it. Pepper's been on my case about finishing the new line of prosthetics; the only reason I'm up here is because Diana was playing on the piano and I wondered what the noise was."

"That reminds me; is that offer still open? For me to work with the charity, I mean," Bucky asks, not quite ready for Tony to leave.

"Yeah, of course. You can be involved however you want, however often you want. It's totally up to you."

"I feel like I should tell you that I don't know the first thing about running a charity," Bucky confesses. "I've never done anything like it."

"I can set up a meeting for you and Pepper if you want; she's great at this kind of stuff, and she'll be able to introduce you to the team we've set aside for this project," Tony offers.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you, I really appreciate this. It's... more than I could have dreamed of, honestly."

Tony smiles weakly at him. "Don't mention it. I'll have Friday book that meeting in; Pepper's a busy woman, so it might be awhile. Friday'll let you know," he says, standing up. "Don't mind Diana, she just kind of hangs around wherever she wants, really. Let Friday know if she's bugging you though, I'll take her down to my lab if she won't leave you alone."

Bucky reaches over to scratch her head again; she purrs loudly and he smiles, pleased. "I think we'll be alright," he says softly. Tony's looking at him with something unreadable flashing in his eyes, and Bucky frowns.

"Right, well I'll just..." Tony trails off before he just sighs and turns away. 

"Do you think all our future run ins are going to be that awkward?" Bucky asks Diana, when Tony's gone. Diana just yawns in response.

"All the evidence points to yes," Friday replies, drawing a sigh from Bucky.

#

He moves into his new apartment that night; it's basically a mirror image of Natasha's, if a little larger. "Everyone who lives here on a permanent basis has the same living quarters," Friday explains when he asks. "People like Mr. Wilson, Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Rogers who have moved in since the fall of SHEILD only have personal bedrooms in the communal areas since they were never expecting to reside here full time. None of them have requested private quarters, so we've left their living arrangements alone. It was thought that you might desire your privacy."

"Oh, that makes sense," Bucky says. "Thanks, Fri." Natasha had brought his luggage up earlier, and he'd swung past her room to grab the few things left behind. The rooms in his new place are pretty empty, but the cupboards are full of food and his new bed is more comfortable than the last. The front door has been painted with black chalk-board paint, and there's a pile of different coloured chalk sitting on the table beside it.

 _So you and Winter can communicate,_ is written on there, in a bright red colour. 

It's more than he ever dreamt of, two years ago when he was squatting in Bucharest with a scrambled brain. 

"There's a team meeting tomorrow morning," Friday alerts him before bed that night. "Your presence has been requested; Ms. Romonoff will come and collect you at half past eight."

"Should I be worried?" Bucky sighs, reaching out and flicking off his light.

"Not at all," Friday says. "Goodnight, Bucky."

"Night, Fri."

That night, he dreams for the first time in months, in years. In his dreams, Steve smiles at him like he used to, back before the War, back before they broke each others hearts and could hardly stand to be in the same room together. In his dream, his hands are clean of the blood that's stained them for the past seven decades, and Tony doesn't look scared of him when he stands too close, doesn't leave the room when Bucky smiles at him. 

Bucky wakes up feeling off centre; he snaps at Natasha four times in the short walk from his apartment to the meeting room. Luckily, she doesn't call him out on it, instead pushing some donuts into his hands when they finally arrive. The sugar perks him up a little bit, and he offers her an apologetic smile.

She just rolls her eyes. "Your day's about to get a lot worse, don't thank me yet." They're all seated around a large table; Sam, Nat, Steve, Vision, Wanda, Scott and Hope. Rhodes and Tony walk in a few minutes after everyone has settled; Rhodes takes the seat at the head of the table, and Tony remains standing, leaning against the door frame. 

"So, you all know why you're here," Rhodes starts. Bucky raises a hand.

"I don't," he says, and Rhodes frowns in Natasha's direction. 

"You were supposed to brief him last night," he accuses. Natasha raises an eyebrow.

"What am I? His secretary?" 

Rhodes rolls his eyes before turning back to Bucky. "There's been a lot of bad press about the Avengers recently, what with the disaster before the Accords, the bombing in Vienna, and a former assassin joining the team."

"To be fair," Bucky points out. "I'm like, the third former assassin to sign up."

Natasha grins at him, and Rhodes sighs again. "Yes, well. We need to get the public back on our side, especially with Thor and Banner bringing Loki and a couple hundred other Asgardians back here soon."

"What do you have in mind?" Steve asks. He looks less annoyed at Rhodes taking the lead than Bucky would have thought; his therapist must be working miracles. 

"Well, Tony and Barnes have been working on a charity developing prosthetics for differently abled limbs," Rhodes says. "Tony's been working on the actual development side of it, and Barnes is eventually going to get involved with the charity side of it, but in the meantime, we're going to hold a gala to raise funds and awareness. Our public relations team thinks it'd be really good if we all got involved; it'd help show that we're still united, which is why Scott and Hope are here, and help show off our more generous sides. All the public really sees of some of you is footage from battles; we want to show the more human aspects, too."

"Do I have to wear a dress?" Is Natasha's only question; Rhodes just shrugs at her.

"Wear whatever the hell you want, as long as you match it with a smile," he responds. She rolls her eyes, and Bucky hides a grin. "So this'll be happening in Washington in three days; the jet will take us all there at about midday, so we can help set up. We'll be staying there overnight, so pack a bag."

Tony slips out the door when Rhodes concludes the meeting, and Natasha is barely a second behind him. Steve stares after her longingly, and Sam rests his head in his hands.

"There better be alcohol at this thing," he mutters, and Bucky sighs in agreement. 

#

Nora looks pleased to see Bucky when he meets her the next day for his appointment; her entire face lights up when he walks into her office. She's the closest thing Bucky has to a normal, easy relationship; he loves spending time with her, especially considering it has the added bonus of helping him sort all of this mess in his head out. 

"You look so tanned," she tells him. "It suits you."

Bucky returns her grin. "I don't think I've felt this relaxed in a long time. Even if the actual holiday wasn't all that relaxing."

"Oh, why not?" Nora asks.

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Being around Sam and Nat is exhausting," he explains. "Sam has a mark for Nat but doesn't think she has one for him, and Nat doesn't know about Sam's mark. Or, she might, actually, but she's doing a great job of pretending otherwise. And to cap it all off, they're both at least a little bit in love with Steve, who probably has no clue about the entire situation, let alone his part in it, so he spends all of his time looking between them with a confused and longing expression."

Nora raises an eyebrow. "Well, that does sound exhausting," she agrees, and Bucky nods in agreement. "I thought you'd come to the conclusion that soul-marks didn't mean all that much?"

"Well, yeah, but that's for me," Bucky says. "I don't expect everyone to suddenly stop believing in them or anything; they obviously work great for some couples."

"But not you?" Bucky arches an eyebrow at her, and she shrugs her shoulders. "Just because it didn't work out the first time doesn't mean it won't work this time."

"I don't think there'll be a  _this time_ ," Bucky tells her, wringing his hands. "Tony seems pretty against soul-marks as well, so it's not looking good."

"Do you  _want_ it to look good?" Nora questions; Bucky shrugs again.

"There's a part of me that still thinks that soul-marks are just like, a short-cut to find the person we're meant to be with. And maybe it's up to us to figure out what to do after we've found them, instead of just assuming everything will work out because the mark says so. But there's a bigger part of me that says that soul-marks are crap, and we just shouldn't listen to them at all."

"And why is that, exactly?"

"I just can't see why fate or God or whatever would make me Tony's soulmate, not after everything that's happened. It doesn't seem fair, is all."

Nora's face softens. "Fair to you, or fair to him?"

"Him, mostly," Bucky sighs. "He found out I killed his parents and that we're apparently meant for each other all in the same day; I can't imagine what he's been going through."

"Have you asked him?"

Bucky shrugs. "He says he's forgiven me, says he's forgiven Winter too. But whenever we talk or are in the same room I can tell he doesn't want to be there, can tell he doesn't want to be there with  _me_."

"How can you tell that? Maybe you should be listening to what he's saying, rather than what you think his body language is telling you," Nora suggests. 

"I've been trained to read people," Bucky responds. "I can't trust a lot, but I can trust that. I can tell Tony doesn't want to be around me, most of the time."

Nora's silent for a moment. "He's friends with Winter, though?"

"Yeah," Bucky confirms with a nod. "Seems to like him more than me, if I'm honest."

"How did your trip go, now that you know about him? Did he make any appearances?" Nora questions, opening her notebook. 

Bucky nods his head again. "Nat said I spent a few nights out of the hotel room, but I don't remember anything, so I guess so. I don't think he really talks to anyone, aside from Tony and Friday."

"I wonder why that is," Nora hums, writing something down.

"He's apparently fascinated by Tony's tech," Bucky answers. "I can't see him caring much about anyone else who lives here. He might like Vision, I guess. I don't know if they've met. But he seems to like Tony the most."

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, I guess because he’s been… active for a while, and Tony’s the only person who noticed. I’m sure other people have run into him and just thought it was me because he didn’t correct them, so I have to think he didn’t want anyone else to know.”

“You could ask him,” Nora suggests. “Leave a note for him to see or put something on your phone.”

“I password protected my phone once I found out about him, I don’t want him snooping through my messages,” Bucky says, and Nora laughs. “But Tony, or someone else has painted the back of my lounge room door with chalkboard paint, so we can communicate that way. I haven’t left him any messages yet because I don’t have much to say, but I guess it could come in handy.”

“Someone has to open the line of communication between the two of you,” Nora notes. “It might as well be you.”

Bucky shrugs. “I’ll think about it.”

"In the meantime, it might be a good idea to ask Tony about him," Nora suggests, without making eye contact. "He could help give us a bit more insight into Winter's personality, rather than the superficial things he initially told you."

Bucky frowns at her. "I think liking musicals says a lot about people."

"Yeah, sure," Nora snorts. 

"Are you trying to play match maker, Nora?" Bucky asks, and Nora blushes. "I knew it!"

"No, I'm just trying to encourage you to not close the door on the possibility of having Tony in your life," Nora says. "It sounds like you could be good for each other. Also, you have mentioned numerous times that you find him attractive, what was I supposed to think?"

"Uh, that I'm not blind?" Bucky supplies; Nora rolls her eyes. "Anyway, I think that if there was a door, he's welded it shut," Bucky adds, dryly.

"Maybe you could try opening it again," Nora suggests. "You still have the Christmas gift you got for him, right? Why not pass that along?"

Bucky shrugs. "He made it pretty clear he didn't want a gift from me."

Nora shakes her head. "From what you've told me, it sounds like he's telling you he doesn't deserve the gift, not that he doesn't want it. I'm not Tony's therapist, but I think he's just deflecting." Bucky just shrugs, and Nora sighs. “Anything else new in your life?”

“Yeah, actually," Bucky says, relieved at the change of subject. "I just found out my great-great niece, Harper, lives in the city; I was thinking about maybe reaching out to her.”

“Wow, that is new! So, she’s related to you… how, exactly?”

“She’s my sister Rebecca’s great granddaughter,” Bucky confirms. "Rebecca had three children, all girls, and then the middle one had a son who had Harper. My brother had some kids as well, two boys I think, but they’ve both moved their families out of the city.”

“And your youngest sister?”

“Her soul-mate was a woman; they fostered some kids when they were older, but never adopted any, so I wouldn't know how to track them down,” Bucky explains.

“Oh, of course. And you’re thinking of contacting Harper?”

Bucky nods. “She’s a student at a local university so she lives around here. Rebecca was still alive when she was born, I’d love to see if Harper knows much about her.”

“Do you know how to get in contact with her?”

“Tony’s given me her contact numbers and a university email address; I was thinking I’d send an email and let her respond, if she wants. I don’t want to force my company on her, y’know?”

Nora beams at Bucky. “That’s a really good idea. You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“Yeah, I will. I’m probably gonna wait until I get back from Washington, though.”

“I heard about that; it’s an event for the charity Stark Industries is starting, isn’t it? Are you involved in the project?”

“I will be, eventually. I’m apparently meeting Ms. Potts soon so talk about it; I’m not sure what they’ll want me to do, considering I have no experience, but I’m up for mostly anything.”

"I think that you'll be wonderful no matter what you do," Nora says, smiling. "When do you head out for that? How long are you gone for?"

"We leave in two days," Bucky says. "Everyone else is only there for the night, but Tony and I apparently fly back a day later than everyone else; Ms. Potts wants us to do a few interviews about the charity and what not. Rhodes thinks it'll be a good idea to give the public a chance to see me in a non-violent setting, I suppose."

"Are you nervous about that?"

"More about spending time alone with Tony," Bucky replies, frowning. "I'm good at pretending when I need to, good at blending in. I think the interviews should be easy enough. Rhodes promised they wouldn't be filmed live, so they can edit anything out if I don't do so well."

"I'm sure that's reassuring," Nora says. "But I'm sure you'll do fine, regardless. What kind of involvement in the charity would you eventually like?"

Bucky shrugs. "I'll do whatever they want me to, I guess."

"But what do  _you_ want to do?" Nora presses.

"I guess..." Bucky sighs. "I guess I'd like to be able to interact with the kids Tony's building the limbs for. I guess I'd like to show them that they do work, and help them through the process. I know a lot of them were just born this way, or lost limbs due to illness and it wasn't at all the same as it was for me, but I think I could help them through it all, maybe."

Nora beams at him. "I think you'd be  _wonderful_  at that. You've always spoken of your younger siblings so highly, it sounds like you were really brilliant with children."

"I was okay," Bucky shrugs. "I'm not so sure, now. We'll see I guess."

Nora's eyes are twinkling. "I'm sure we will," she agrees. "And, Bucky, I'm not usually wrong."

#

Pepper manages to make time for Bucky the day before they're due to fly out to Washington; she introduces him to a group of people she's enlisted to help run the charity. Bucky feels wildly out of his depth, but Pepper is gentle and encouraging and makes the whole experience less of a train wreck than it could have been.

"We mostly want you to be the official face of the charity," she tells him. "We think it'd be really good if you interacted with the children who we're donating the prosthetic limbs to, so they can see yours in action and learn a bit about it before they get fitted for their own. This will require you learning a bit about the design, of course, so you can answer their questions, but Tony's preparing a package of information for you. And the doctors will know more, in case their parents ask any questions you don't feel confident answering; the kids themselves will mostly ask little things that you should be able to answer, though. But mostly we just want you to be there to help guide them through it, to have fun with them and make it all a bit less scary, you know?"

Bucky nods his head slowly. "And parents will really trust me with their kids? I mean, it's like Rhodes said, I'm just a former assassin; people still think I'm responsible for the bombing in Vienna."

Pepper frowns at him. "We've issued numerous press releases that state otherwise, anyone who still thinks you were involved in that is, quite frankly, an idiot. And you're a lot more than a former assassin; you're also a former Sergeant who served in the second World War, you're Captain America's best friend, and you're officially on the Avengers roster. That will all count for a lot, but more importantly, we've already been in touch with a few hospitals, and parents and children are more than happy to meet with you. A lot of them are actually looking forward to it, in fact."

Bucky blinks at her, dumfounded. "I didn't think... I never thought I would shake the Winter Soldier label, you know? I..."

Pepper's eyes soften, and a small smiles spreads across her face; Bucky didn't realise how beautiful she was until this moment. It's no wonder Tony loved her so much, when she had so many other amazing qualities about her that beauty didn't even rank in the top ten. "You're the Winter Soldier, or at least a part of him, but it's not all you are, James. I hope you can see that."

Bucky blushes, and Pepper changes the subject, drawing all of their attention back to the timetable for the interviews they're scheduled for when they're in Washington.  

"I can see why Tony likes you," Pepper says, afterwards. She's walking him out of the building; she towers over him in her heels, and doesn't look apologetic about it in the slightest. Bucky thinks he might love her a little bit. 

He blushes. "I don't think he does, ma'am. But thank you, I appreciate the sentiment."

Pepper laughs. "Oh, I adore spending time with you and Steve; it's not often men talk to me the way you two do, it's delightful."

"Glad to be of assistance," Bucky says, slightly baffled. Pepper just laughs again. 

"You'll be good for Tony," she declares. "As long as you don't let him be an idiot about this entire thing."

"Oh, Tony and I aren't-"

"Not yet, anyway," Pepper interrupts. "I know Tony's on his whole  _soul-marks are for jerks_ tirade at the moment, but it's just a front. He's afraid of getting hurt again." She clenches her teeth, looking hurt. "And that's largely my fault, I know. But I just want him to be happy."

"You and me both," Bucky mutters, and Pepper smiles at him. "I'm just not sure I'm the person to make him happy, is all. I'm not what he wants, what he needs."

"What he needs is hardly ever what he wants," Pepper says, with a fond roll of her eyes. "But he needs someone who cares about him and wants to make him happy, someone who shares his interests and passions in a way I never did, someone who understands and accepts all of the broken parts of him. I think that someone could be you, if you wanted it."

Bucky sighs. "I've been here for a few months now, and have been... awake for even longer, but I'm still not sure I know what I want."

"And that's okay," Pepper says with a shrug. "You've got the rest of your life to figure it out. I'm just saying... don't let Tony push you away, because he will do it. He's not good at letting people love him, but he's learning, I think. All you have to do is try, if that's what you want."

They're silent for the rest of the elevator ride, and when they arrive on the ground floor, Pepper smiles at him. "Thanks for all of the information regarding the charity, Ms. Potts," Bucky says, reaching out a hand for her to shake. "And the advice regarding Tony." 

Pepper clasps their hands together. "If you hurt him, I'll make the last seventy odd years of your life look like a picnic," she tells him. Her smile doesn't falter for a second. 

Bucky returns her smile. "Understood," he says, and Pepper's smile softens.  

#

He sits next to Natasha on the flight to Washington; well, more accurately, he had shrugged off his jacket once seated, reaching out to place it on the seat next to him, and Natasha had slipped into it before he had the chance. 

"I'm not spending an hour watching Sam and Steve make heart eyes at each other," she tells him. Her mouth doesn't even twist at the words, but he can see the pain in her eyes. 

"Want to watch some TV?" He asks, and Natasha smiles gratefully at him. 

"Anything but Gossip Girl," she agrees, and Bucky laughs. 

When they land, a car is waiting to take them to their hotel; Tony has provided each of them with a room for the night, and Bucky's is on the thirty-third floor, in between Vision's room and Scott and Hope's. Sam, Natasha, Maximoff, and Steve are all on the floor below them; Bucky's grateful he can avoid _that_ disaster waiting to happen.

He's unpacking, throwing his toiletries into the bathroom and placing his pyjamas underneath his pillow, when he realises he doesn't have a suit. 

"Are suits still required for fancy parties?" Bucky asks Rhodes, who had answered the call on the third ring. Rhodes sighs in response. "Because if they are, we have a slight problem."

"Check the wardrobe," Rhodes tells him. "We picked out an outfit for the gala and one for the interviews tonight; Tones still had all your measurements from when he made your arm, or something. It should all fit."

Bucky pads over to the wardrobe and opens it up; there's a suit hanging inside, as well as a black button up shirt with flowers printed all over it. "I didn't think I was a flower kind of guy," Bucky tells Rhodes, who snorts.

"The PR team thought it'd play well with audiences; make you look softer, more approachable," he explains. Bucky grins.

"Sounds fair," he replies. "Thanks for organising this, by the way. I didn't even think about suits or outfits for the interviews. I would have just shown up in a hoodie, otherwise."

Bucky can almost hear Rhodes roll his eyes over the phone. "Well, we couldn't have that, could we? Anyway, thank Tony and Pepper, it was all them. I just pass on the messages they give me."

"Well, thank you for being the messenger, anyway," Bucky replies.

"See you tonight, Barnes," Rhodes says. "Be ready to leave in about two hours."

"Sir, yes, sir," Bucky responds. After he ends the call, he pulls his laptop out and goes through the information package Friday had downloaded onto it. Tony had included all of the information about his arm and the other prosthetics; how they're made, what their capabilities are, how often children have to get a new one as they grow, and a litany of other things Bucky had never even thought about. 

Tony hasn't dumbed any of the information down, and although Bucky has to google a few things for clarification, he's proud that he understands most of it. He feels pretty confident that he'll be able to make it through the gala and the following interviews without sounding like an incompetent idiot. 

#

When Bucky steps into the elevator later that night, he's surprised to find Tony already in it.

"Oh, hey," he says, when Tony blinks at him. "You on your way down as well?"

"Yeah, of course," Tony responds, raising his eyebrow. Bucky has to shut his eyes for a moment as he reprimands himself for saying something so obvious and stupid. 

"I like your suit," he says, a moment later. It's a dark maroon colour, and it's looser than Tony's usual suits, but Bucky finds that he quite likes it.

"Thanks," Tony says, running his eyes over Bucky's body. "I'd compliment yours, but since I helped pick it out, you must already know I like it."

"Thanks for that," Bucky tells him. "And the outfit for tomorrow, as well. I appreciate all your help, really. There's so many things to do with public relations that I never would have thought about. I'm feeling awfully out of depth."

Tony shrugs it off. "It's no big deal, none of the Avengers are any good at this kind of stuff. It's why I hired an entire team to do it for us."

"Well, thank you anyhow," Bucky says as the elevator doors close. The back of the doors are covered in a reflective glass; Tony makes a face at his reflection, reaching up to mess his hair up a little. Bucky feels a grin spread across his face, and Tony, seeing his reflection, raises an eyebrow at him.

“What are you smiling about?” He asks, turning away from the mirror. Bucky’s grin widens.

“Nothing,” he denies, and Tony frowns at him suspiciously. “May I?” He asks, reaching a hand out to Tony’s head. Tony bites his lip before nodding tentatively. Bucky makes sure to reign in his strength as he runs his fingers through Tony’s hair, making it look a bit more presentable.

Tony turns back to the mirror when Bucky’s done, and nods appreciatively at his own reflection. “Not bad, Barnes. If this whole charity thing doesn’t work you, maybe we could book you in for a hairdressing course.”

Bucky snorts as the elevator door opens; Sam and Nat step in and Bucky steps closer to Tony to make room for them. Tony stumbles as he attempts to do the exact same, and Bucky catches him with hit metal arm. Tony’s almost a head shorter than him, and Bucky leans in until his whole world is the faint smell of oil and Tony’s shampoo (cherries and heartache).

“Whoops,” Tony says, straightening himself after too-long a pause, and then taking a pointed step away from Bucky. “Sorry about that, I’m not a very coordinated guy.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky tells him, voice soft. Natasha and Sam are pointedly looking anywhere but the two of them (and each other) and the four of them spend the rest of the elevator ride in an awkward silence.

Tony manages to sneak past Natasha and squeeze his way out of the doors and out the building before Bucky even realises they’ve reached the ground; Sam lets out a deep breath at his departure. “Dude, I don’t know if you noticed, but that was the most awkward thirty seconds of my entire  _life_.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, and Natasha grins. “Drink?” She offers, looping her arm in his.

“Please,” Bucky agrees, and lets himself be dragged off to the bar.

#

During the gala, most of the guests seem too intimidated to go up and speak to any of the Avengers, including Bucky. Steve seems annoyed by this, but Bucky is mostly just relieved. 

"I thought you said you were feeling confident about talking to more people," Steve accuses.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that I  _want_ to," Bucky responds. Steve rolls his eyes. "Plus, I have all of those interviews tomorrow, I should be conserving my energy for them."

"They're with Tony, right?" Bucky nods, and Steve frowns. "Do you think you'll be okay with that?"

"I don't see why not," Bucky tells him, even though he very clearly does. "We're adults, Steve, we're perfectly capable of spending time together without-"

"Without fighting?" Steve interrupts. "Or without jumping each others bones?"

Bucky scowls at him. "Neither of those are going to happen," he tells Steve, who rolls his eyes. 

"Do you  _want_ either of those things to happen?" Steve asks, fiddling with his tie and avoiding Bucky's eye.

"I don't know," Bucky tells him. "I'm still learning that it's okay for me to want anything, or not want something, y'know? I spent years being told what to wear, what to eat, when to sleep, where to go. It's... hard, to just switch that off and make all these decisions for myself."

Steve looks up to meet Bucky's eyes. "Jesus, Buck, I'm sorry." Bucky attempts to shrug it off, but Steve shakes his head and talks over him. "No, I'm serious. I don't think I ever let myself think about how difficult your time with HYDRA was. I didn't want... I didn't want to admit that it was partly my fault, for letting you fall."

"Don't be an idiot, Steve, you couldn't have helped that," Bucky tells him. 

"I could have told you to stay at home that day," Steve counters. "I knew... when I asked you to come with me, it was selfish. I knew you'd come, I knew you'd follow me. And I shouldn't have, not when I had Peggy, but I didn't want to go without you."

Bucky shrugs. "We both fucked up," he says. "Yeah, you asked me, but it's not like I was incapable of saying no."

"Weren't you?" Steve asks, and Bucky winces. Before he has a chance to respond, Natasha is whirling up to them, her dress spinning around her.

"Soldiers," she greets, before turning to Steve with a smile. "Want to dance?" Steve looks like  _he's_  the one suddenly incapable of saying no, and Bucky frowns as he takes Natasha's hand. "I promise I'll bring him back in one piece," she tells Bucky, who raises an eyebrow at her.

"You better," he warns her. Natasha's smile dims slightly before she nods and leads Steve onto the dance floor. She holds Steve at arms length, like she's afraid of what could happen if they stood too close. Bucky remembers that feeling all too well. 

They don't talk while they dance, instead spending the four minutes just staring into each other's eyes. Sam, standing on the sidelines, looks just as uncomfortable as the two of them. Bucky's not sure how this triangle will work out but he knows one of his closest friends is going to end up with their heart broken; he's already dreading it.

Bucky heads over to the bar and grabs as many drinks as he can carry. When the song finishes, Steve pulls away from Natasha and makes his way back to Bucky; he takes two of the drinks from Bucky's hand and downs them both in seconds. They're standing so close Bucky can feel the heat radiating off of Steve's body.

"You kind of love her, huh?" Bucky asks. Steve's eyes are glued to Natasha; she's across the room now, hand and hand with Sam and smiling at him, and Steve looks like he's just been hit by a truck.

"Yeah, kinda," Steve breathes out. Bucky follows Steve's gaze to where Natasha is saying something to Sam, who laughs loudly. Steve looks like he's had the breath knocked out of him, he looks like he's burning alive.

"Oh," Bucky says, turning to Steve. "Him too, huh?

"Yeah," Steve admits, fingers clenching around his empty glass. "Kinda."

"Man, what a disaster," Bucky says. "Let's go test out our tolerance against the open bar, yeah?"

Steve breathes out a sigh of relief. "Please."

Two hours later, and they're finally starting to feel a little tipsy. Tony had shown up at one point and dumped something in their drinks. _Made especially for super-soldiers_   _so it should help you feel something_ , he'd said, without making eye contact with either of them, before whirling off with Pepper. 

Bucky downs his drink instantly, and realises that he trusts Tony pretty explicitly. He hasn't trusted anyone like this since Steve, since before HYDRA; he has to down another drink at the thought. Steve, for his part, sniffs his drink suspiciously before drinking it after Bucky elbows him in the ribs. 

"The first time I saw her, I was doomed," Steve admits, two drinks later. "Did you know I didn't realise it was love? It was so different to what I felt for you, so different to what grew inside me as you and I grew up together. When I got off the plane, back before New York, back before Sam, and I saw her standing there, I actually felt my entire world shift. Did you know that I made myself sick over her, told myself that it wasn't real, that I was just imagining the sparks, even though flowers bloomed over my heart when she smiled at me, even though the world stopped turning when she walked away."

"Jesus," Bucky says. Steve just snorts as he takes a long sip from his glass. "You're really fucked up over her, aren't you?"

"Over them both," Steve corrects, with a wince. "God, isn't this just... this is karma, Buck, for the way I fucked you over, isn't it? I left you for Peggy and now my soulmate is marked for another man."

In that moment, Bucky realises that he's really and truly over Steve. He'd thought he was before, but he thinks there's a part of him that will always love Steve. At least now that part doesn't feel broken at Steve's admission of love for someone else.

"I don't know what Sam and Nat are doing," Bucky says, reaching out and taking Steve's drink away from him. "I don't think they do, either. But I do think that maybe soul marks aren't really the be-all and end-all we've made them out to be; I think we can fall in love without them."

"You and Tony..." Steve says, looking pained.

"We have marks for each other," Bucky confirms. "But they don't mean anything, not really. Not unless we want them to."

"So does that mean you aren't trying, with Tony?" 

Bucky shrugs. "We've only had a handful of conversations. I like the guy, but honestly I think he's more partial to my alter-ego." Steve wrinkles his nose at the mention of Winter; Bucky agrees with that sentiment. 

"What about us?" Steve asks. "Do you think we would have worked, do you think we  _could_ work if we... if  _I_ hadn't cared so much about them?" 

“I don't know," Bucky says, honestly. "I wish we’d given each other a chance, just to see where things could go. We owed it to ourselves." He reaches out and laces their fingers together; Steve squeezes his hand once, twice, three times. He’s saying  _I love you_. He’s saying  _please don’t go_. Bucky remembers a time just like this, when they were on opposite sides of this argument. He lets out a deep breath. Someone has to leave first; Steve knew that, seventy years ago. Bucky knows it now. “Now I can’t even want that. I want nothing more than to move on, before we lose each other completely. I need to let go so that I can figure out who I am without you telling me who I was, who you want me to be. I don’t know if I believe in fate, Steve, but I believe in choice. Back in the 40s, during the war, I chose you and you didn’t choose me back, and that changed things between us. I’d been choosing you for fifteen years, and yet you never chose me." 

“We never had a chance, did we?” Steve asks, after a moment. "I never gave us a chance."

Bucky shrugs at him. “I think… we let one little mark decide our entire fate. We let it dictate our feelings, and then we turned around and began to resent it. I don't think it's entirely your fault.”

"I don't want that," Steve admits. "I don't want to resent Sam, or Nat. I don't want to hate them the way you hated me."

Bucky rolls his eyes, not unkindly. "I never _really_ hated you, idiot. I just... I hated the situation. I hated what you did to me."

"I never meant to hurt you," Steve says, sounding small. "I just... we were so young, Buck. We had each other and we thought it could be enough, thought we could  _make_ it be enough."

"I tried to make it work, tried to make  _us_ work, but..."

"But I didn't," Steve fills in. "God, I've been a real asshole, haven't I?"

A laugh slips out of Bucky's mouth before he manages to stop it. "Just a bit," he agrees. "But we're moving past it, aren't we?"

Steve smiles up at him; it's softer, now. He looks like he used to back before the serum, back before he broke Bucky into pieces. "Yeah," he agrees. "We are."

Bucky returns the smile, and slips his hand out of Steve's. "I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel, you want to come?"

Steve shakes his head. "Nah, I promised Nat I'd help her get Sam home if he got too drunk. Which, he did, because he's Sam."

"Good luck with that," Bucky says with a laugh. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, when you get home, alright?"

Steve nods his head before he reaches out and pulls Bucky into a hug. "Thanks, Buck. For being my friend."

"Always," Bucky says, squeezing him back. He means it, too. Steve may not be his soulmate, and maybe he never really was. Maybe this is always what their marks were meant for; to bring them into each others lives back then, so they could have each other now. 

Whatever it is that brought Steve and him together, Bucky thinks he might just be grateful for it. 

#

Bucky falls asleep in a hotel room in Washington and wakes up in an apartment that doesn't belong to him in New York.  "Friday?" He calls, his voice thick with sleep. "Where am I?"

"Bucky?" She responds, and Bucky nods as he stretches. His body feels stiff, like he hasn't moved in awhile. "Oh, hello, it's good to have you back."

"Back?" Bucky repeats, frowning in confusion. "Fri, why aren't I in Washington? What  _happened_  last night? I know I got a little drunk, but..."

"That was two nights ago, actually," Friday replies. "It seems that Winter took over the morning after the gala and has remained... in charge, I suppose, since."

"Where  _am_ I?" Bucky asks, a moment later.

"In Winter's room," Friday supplies. "It's the floor above yours; two floors below Mr. Starks', and two floors above Ms. Romanoff's. Would you like me to fetch anybody? Your heart rate seems to be accelerating."

Bucky shakes his head. "No, I'm okay, I just... I haven't ever woken up somewhere I didn't fall asleep. Usually Winter seems to go back to my room, after he's spent the night out. I... did you say this was his room? Since when does he have his own room?"

"He moved in the same day you moved out of Ms. Romanoff's," Friday answers. "Well, later that night, to be more precise."

Bucky swings himself out of his bed-  _Winter's bed_ \- and looks around the room. The room itself is laid out the same way Bucky's is, the same way Natasha's is, but it's decorated differently. Winter has fairy lights strung around the room, and the bed has been pushed up against the window; when he wakes, he must sit up and look out on the view of the city. It's kind of beautiful, if not a little bit terrifying. 

"Friday, if I wasn't... awake, did he do the interviews? For the charity?" 

"Yes, of course," Friday replies. "They went off without a hitch; I don't believe anyone, aside from Mr. Stark and the other Avengers, realised it wasn't you doing them. The public loves you, by the way."

"Well, that's good, I guess," Bucky says. "I should go back to my room, right? It'd be wrong to snoop around in Winter's private space, wouldn't it?"

Friday doesn't respond straight away. "Well," she says eventually. "He has definitely searched your apartment on more than one occasion. He's also attempted to go through your phone and laptop, though I blocked him from that. I think the rules regarding privacy are a little bit... lenient, when you also happen to be sharing a body."

Bucky grins up at the ceiling. "I love you, Friday."

"I'm quite fond of you, as well, Bucky," she responds. "But I will not help you break into his phone or computer; I can't stop you from looking around his quarters, but I will keep this one line uncrossed."

"That's fair," Bucky agrees, padding over to the wardrobe. It's filled with bright, patterned button up shirts; Bucky's surprised, he would have figured Winter for more of a plain-clothed kind of guy. He pulls one of them on, and steps into some worn jeans that he finds folded up in the set of drawers. 

Winter's apartment is laid out the same as Bucky's, but absolutely nothing is in the same place as Bucky keeps it. All of his kitchen and bathroom cupboards are so unbelievably messy that Bucky gets a headache just looking at them. He has a set of shelves in his lounge room lined with books and DVDS; they look like they've just been thrown on in no particular order. Bucky feels his fingers twitching to line them in alphabetical order, but he manages to refrain. After he's satisfied with his search, he walks into the elevator.

"Friday, could you tell me where Nat is? Or Sam, or Steve?"

"They're all in the communal kitchen, having brunch," Friday supplies.

Bucky crinkles his nose. "Since when do we do  _brunch_?" He questions; Friday responds with a laugh. "Alright, take me down there please."

The elevator starts moving and it's only a few moments until Bucky arrives on their floor; true to Friday's word, Nat, Sam and Steve are all eating waffles at the kitchen table.

Natasha waves at him when she sees him, Sam raises an eyebrow, and Steve angles his chair a few inches away from him. "It's me," Bucky says with a sigh. "Bucky, I mean."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Obviously," she responds. "Winter would never match that shirt with those pants."

Bucky frowns at her and she just smirks in response. "Did you guys meet him?"

Sam and Steve shake their heads in unison. "No, we only heard from Rhodes who heard from Tony that Winter... took over, after the gala."

"Have you seen the interviews?" Bucky questions. "Friday said that they went okay."

"We were waiting for you," Sam tells him. "Did you want to watch them?" Bucky nods his head, and Steve stands up.

"My room's the closest, I'll go grab my laptop," he says, before walking off. Bucky turns to Natasha with a raised eyebrow, and she sighs.

"He doesn't like Winter all that much," she explains. "I think he believes that Winter is just the Winter Soldier, that he's all of the..."

"All of the murderous parts of me," Bucky fills in, and Natasha sighs. "Well, that's understandable. He hasn't had the best experiences with him, has he?"

"You could say that," Steve says, from behind Bucky, laptop in hand. "Can you get the videos up?" He says, handing the laptop to Sam who laughs.

"You've had a few years to get used to technology, Rogers, come on," he says, and Steve blushes.

"I'm perfectly capable of using it, thank you, I just don't like to," Steve says. Bucky and Sam laugh, and even Natasha allows a small smile to spread across her face. Sam has the videos loaded up within a few seconds, and starts the first one when they've all angled themselves so they can see the screen. 

Winter's wearing the daisy covered shirt that Tony or Pepper had picked out for Bucky; Bucky has to give them credit, the shirt does look nice on him. Tony's wearing a dark purple plaid suit; he looks a lot more professional than Winter does, but they still look kind of... nice together. 

> "So, we're here today to find out more about the charity you two have started for children who have unfortunately lost limbs due to illness or injuries," the interviewer starts; both Tony and Winter nod. "I assume this came about due to your experience with the loss of your arm?"
> 
> Winter nods his head again. "I lost my arm back in World War 2; I fell from a moving train and when I woke up, I had been captured by HYDRA. I don't remember much about that time, but I believe I lost my arm in the fall and they then provided me with a new one."
> 
> "That must have been pretty awful," the interviewer responds. "And you had that same arm for the next seventy odd years, correct?"
> 
> "Yeah, I mean, they did maintenance on it, and occasionally had to replace a part or two if I had been injured while on a mission, but it was the same arm I originally was given."
> 
> "But this one is new, right? Made by you," she continues, with a nod in Tony's direction.
> 
> Tony grins. "I figured it was just cruel to let him keep walking around with outdated tech," he says. "And I had some spare time on my hands, so I made him this much better one."
> 
> "It plays music," Winter adds, grinning at Tony. "And even has a secret compartment."
> 
> Tony frowns playfully at him. "It was originally designed to hide a weapon, for emergencies, but he keeps snacks in there instead."

Sam pauses the video as they all turn to look at Bucky, who presses the release button for the knife compartment of his arm. 

"Oh, my favourites," Sam says, reaching out to take one of the jersey caramels Winter had obviously hidden there. 

"That can't be hygienic," Bucky says, but puts one in his mouth anyway. Sam laughs and restarts the video. On the screen, Tony and Winter resume their clearly friendly banter; the interviewer is delighted with their obvious friendship.

> "You two seem a lot closer than we were led to believe," she says, around the four minute mark. "Rumour has it you've both got complicated pasts with a certain Captain; in fact, a lot of people have theorised that you and Steve Rogers are now marked for each other," she says, with a nod in Tony's direction. Steve sighs, and Bucky pulls the laptop closer to him as they all watch Tony's face go completely blank. The interview smirks and turns to Winter. "Didn't you used to share a mark with him?"
> 
> Winter frowns at Tony before turning on a smile for the interviewer. "Any third grader could tell you that; it's in all of the history books, isn't it? I would have figured a journalist would have been a bit more informed than a school child," he says as he reaches out a hand to pat Tony's leg. "I think we're ready for the next interview." She sputters something for a moment, and then the camera pans back to Winter's concerned face as he looks at Tony.

"Do you think... they look awfully close, right?" Bucky says as he reaches out to rewind the clip. On the screen, Tony covers Winter's hand with his own; their joined hands are sitting atop one of Tony's soul marks. On the screen, Winter smiles at Tony, and Bucky has never seen that expression on his face.

Steve, on the other hand, winces. "That's how you used to smile at me, after..."

Bucky blanches. "Winter and Tony...  _no_ , they didn't, they  _wouldn't_."

Natasha nods at him, reaching out a hand to steady him. "You're right, James, Tony  _wouldn't_. Not with Winter, not without your consent."

"He's right, man, remember how Stark wouldn't even unbutton your shirt without explicit permission when you first woke up?" Sam reminds him, and even Steve is nodding along. 

"I guess I just... I didn't realise they were actually friends, you know? Tony can... he doesn't seem to like spending time with me, he's always finding an excuse to leave the room if I'm in it, and-"

"Don't be an idiot," Natasha interrupts. "You've basically just woken up after decades of torture to find that you're suddenly marked for a man whose parents you killed while living under the same roof as the man you were previously marked for. It's no wonder Tony's been giving you space."

Bucky blinks at her. "Giving  _me_ space? I don't need space, I've been giving  _him_ space."

Sam rolls his eyes. "You two really need to sit down and have an actual conversation," he suggests. Bucky snorts.

"Yeah, I'm not at the point where I need advice from you three idiots," he tells them. They're all stunned into silence, which Bucky takes advantage of to leave the room before any of them can stop him.

"I understand that Mr. Wilson is being quite hypocritical," Friday tells him, when he's stormed down to the gym. "But he's not exactly  _wrong_ in this situation."

Bucky sighs as he slumps down on the floor. "I know," he moans. "I just- I wouldn't even know what to  _say_  to Tony."

"You could start with  _hello_ ," Tony says, stepping out from the change room. Bucky jumps back, surprised that he hadn't noticed him, and Tony grins. "Winter and Romanoff have been giving me super-spy lessons," he explains. "Guess they're working."

"Guess so," Bucky replies. "Thanks for the warning, Friday," he says, shooting an annoyed look up at the ceiling. Tony laughs.

"You do know she's not actually up there, right? I know tech confuses the hell out of Rogers, but I figured you were smarter than that."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "I know that, it's just-"

"Habit, yeah, I know," Tony fills in. "Everyone does it, don't worry. Also, Vision and I were watching  _The Parent Trap_ the other night, Friday's probably picked up some bad habits of her own."

"I didn't realise I was required to announce everyone's presence at all times," Friday tells them, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I apologise."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Fri, you're better than that," Tony says, a fond grin covering his face before he turns to face Bucky. "So, what did you want to say to me?"

Bucky blinks at him. "I just... I woke up in Winter's room, and then I watched one of the interviews you two did, and I just... you're friends with him."

Tony cocks his head in confusion. "Well, yeah. I told you that, didn't I?"

"Yeah, no, you did," Bucky confirms. "I guess I just didn't realise  _how_ close you were. I mean, I know you've got marks for each other and all, but-"

"God, no, it's not what you think," Tony interrupts with a wince. "We're not... I'm not sleeping with him, Barnes, Jesus. I wouldn't do that to you."

"Natasha did say that," Bucky tells him; Tony looks surprised, and then almost pleased. "But you're clearly a lot more comfortable with him than with me. So I guess I'm here to like, give you my consent, or whatever. If you want to sleep with m- _him_ , that's fine."

Tony looks pained. "Jesus, Barnes, I don't- I need a little more than  _that's fine_ , haven't you ever heard of enthusiastic consent? No, wait, don't answer that. I'm not sleeping with him, and I don't plan to anytime soon, not while you- while  _we_ are- it's not happening, is the point. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Don't let me stop you," Bucky argues, even while wondering why the hell he's trying to convince Tony to sleep with someone other than him, while wondering when sleeping with Tony became something he might  _want_. "Just because we share a body doesn't mean that-"

"Yes, it does, actually," Tony interrupts. "Winter may have given very his explicit permission for you and me to... but that doesn't mean that  _you_ have to agree to anything you're not comfortable with."

"Who says I'm not comfortable with it?" Bucky presses.

"Maybe the way you look like you're about to throw up at the mere  _thought_ of me touching your body," Tony returns. "I might not have spent years being trained to read people like you or Nat, but I'm also not an idiot."

"I- you think  _that's_ what this is about?" Bucky asks, incredulous, and Tony frowns at him. "God,  _no_ , it's not that at all, it's-"

"Then what is it, Barnes?" Tony interrupts, and Bucky has to force himself to take a step backwards, because the light is shining in on Tony in a way that makes his eyes sparkle and he's not sure he can keep himself from stepping forward and cupping Tony's face in his hands instead.

"It's... it's nothing, don't worry about it," Bucky says, with a sigh. "Just forget I said anything, okay? I didn't mean anything. You've got my blessing, or whatever, if you want to hook up with Winter or whatever it is you want to do. As long as you're both down, I don't think my opinion on the issue matters much anyway."

Tony runs his hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "What did I  _just_ say? Of course your opinion matters, not just because it's important, considering you two  _share a body_ , but also because I  _care_ about it, about  _you_. What about that is so hard to understand?"

Bucky chokes out a laugh, and Tony's face instantly softens. "Why on earth would you care about me? I know you said you've forgiven me for your parents, but  _why_  would you go any further than that? You've given me all of these amazing things; a place to live, a way to communicate with Winter, a new arm, a new job, a therapist, God, you funded our holiday to Australia just because I was about two seconds away from a breakdown, and I have no clue as to  _why_."

"Because as much as I don't want to care, I can't stop myself," Tony says, taking a step closer to Bucky. "Because you're inked into my skin and I think about you every time I see the compass on my leg, every time I feel the arrow move as you do, because we're connected, as much as we both want to pretend we're not."

"But that's the  _point_ ," Bucky argues. "Neither of us wanted this, and I've- I've done that whole thing before, been in love with a soul mate who didn't want me. It nearly broke me, and if- I don't think I could handle it a second time, not now, not after Steve, not with _you_."

Tony stops in his tracks, looking like he's just been hit. "Not with me," he repeats. "Of course."

"Tony," Bucky pleads. "What just happened?"

Tony closes his eyes and presses his fingers to his temples. "Nothing," he says, with a sigh. When he opens his eyes, he refuses to meet Bucky's, instead looking past him like he's see-through. "Nothing just happened. I've gotta go, Barnes, I'll see-"

"Wait, Tony, don't do this," Bucky interrupts. "I didn't mean-"

"You did," Tony says. "And that's okay. Look, we're friends, and that's all. I get it, it's fine. Honestly, that's about the best we can hope for, considering the situation we're in." He gestures to the mark on his thigh and then the mark on his shoulder. "I've really got to go, though, Rhodey was expecting me twenty minutes ago, right Fri?"

Friday takes a moment longer than usual to respond. "Right, boss," she agrees. Her voice is softer than Bucky's ever heard it, and he knows it's a lie. 

"We'll talk later," Tony promises with a grin, but both the promise and the smile are empty. 

"Yeah, okay," Bucky says anyway. "Bye, Tony."

After Tony leaves, Bucky sinks to the floor. "What just happened?" He asks Friday.

Friday sighs. "I'm... honestly not entirely sure."

"Well that makes two of us," Bucky replies. He closes his eyes, and doesn't open them again for hours even though he's awake the entire time. He finally manages to pick himself off the ground when Friday warns him that Maximoff was coming down to train soon. Bucky can't stand the thought of heading back to his empty apartment, so he wanders around aimlessly for awhile before heading to Sam's room. Sam doesn't look remotely surprised to find Bucky curled up on his bed when he walks in later that night. 

“Oh," Sam says. He turns the light back off, and sits down next to Bucky, wiggling his feet underneath the blanket. "Are you alright? You look... jeeze, Barnes, you look fucked."

"Something happened," Bucky tells him; his voice sounds broken even to his own ears. "With Tony."

Sam's eyes widen in realisation. "Oh," he repeats. "I didn't... when did you realise?” 

Bucky’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. He wants to say: _On our third night in Australia,_ _I fell asleep thinking about his hair and woke up wanting to kiss him_. He wants to say: _he smiled at me and I felt flowers growing in my soul_. He wants to say:  _when he laughs, I feel like the entire world could burn and it wouldn’t matter as long as he kept looking at me like that._ He wants to say:  _he built me a new arm, a new apartment, a new life, but he didn't leave room for himself inside it._ He wants to say: _the first moment I saw him, I think a part of my soul recognised his and that was it, I was gone_.

“I’m not sure,” he says instead. Bravery's always been more of Steve's thing anyway. 

"Is there anything I can do?" Sam asks, looking more concerned than Bucky's ever seen him. 

"Do you have a time machine?" Bucky replies, with a wry grin. 

"Unfortunately not. What I  _do_ have is the next season of  _Gossip Girl_ on Netflix and a bag of those Russian candies you and Nat love."

"No way," Bucky laughs. "How on earth did  _you_ manage to steal something from the Black Widow?"

Sam smiles sheepishly. "I talked Vision into swiping some from her room while we were away. I've had Friday engage lockdown protocols on this entire floor, so she won't be able to get in here to murder us tonight."

"I'm pleased that you have that much faith in me," Friday's voice rings out. "But I can't protect you forever."

Sam sighs. "At least I'll die having finally tried one of these," he says, reaching underneath the mattress to pull out the bag of candies.

"Sam Wilson," Bucky tells him. "I adore you."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "So when she comes looking for me tomorrow, you'll protect me?"

Bucky snorts out a laugh. "Oh, no way, man. You're on your own for that; I'm not an idiot."

Sam sighs as he settles back into the couch. "That's fair," he agrees. "Oh well, I've lived a decent life."

"Speak for yourself," Bucky mutters, and Sam sighs. "But at least this part is pretty decent."

Sam smiles. "Well with me here, how could it be any different?"

"I meant the candies, jerk," Bucky retorts, and Sam laughs as he fiddles with his laptop to load up Netflix. 

"Seriously, do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not even sure what  _it_ is," Bucky replies. "I think the only person I want to talk to is Tony, but..."

"He'll come around," Sam says. "You guys will work things out, I know it." The thing is, Bucky's not so sure. He and Tony have been walking a tightrope since their first meeting. Since before that, even, when Bucky ran the Stark's car off the road and took his parents away from them. This was never going to be easy, or even possible. It was never going to be like Bucky and Steve, two kids meeting in an alley way and growing up together. It was never going to be like Tony and Pepper, two people falling in love over late night coffee and business meetings. Bucky thinks that maybe he and Tony were always going to be like this, be two broken men who have to fix themselves before they can even attempt to fit together. 

Sam claps a hand on his shoulder in support; Bucky reaches up to grip onto Sam's hand, needing something solid, something unwavering to hold onto. 

"We'll work things out," Bucky repeats in a whisper; Sam's answering smile is full of confidence Bucky doesn't have; Bucky had pretty much given up on hope the moment his mark for Steve had vanished from his skin like it had never been there, but he thinks that maybe Sam has enough confidence for the both of them.

It'll just have to be enough, for now. 


	6. winter (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains some discussion regarding sexual assault and then further down there's a small sex scene.

When Bucky finally makes it back to his apartment, two days later, Steve is sitting on his couch. He's dripping wet and shaking like a leaf; Bucky looks outside the window, and it's pouring with rain. 

"Steve?" He calls, when Steve doesn't acknowledge Bucky's presence. He looks up at the sound of his name, and his face is so twisted with emotion that it hurts Bucky to look at. He's wearing one of Bucky's old jumpers and light blue jeans that have darkened with the rain; Bucky remembers a time when the sight of Steve like this would have melted his insides. Now, all he can think is that Steve looks like he's drowning. "What happened?"

"Sam and Nat," he breathes out, like it's an answer and a prayer all in one. "They- I-"

"It's okay," Bucky interrupts. "Let's- I'll make us some hot chocolate, alright, and I'll tell you about Tony and you can tell me about Nat and Sam, because you're my oldest friend and I love you, alright? That's never changed."

Steve lets out a deep breath and his shoulders relax. "That sounds great," he agrees. They're curled up on the couch together a few minutes later under a blanket, Steve having changed into some of Bucky's sweats. Steve lifts the warm mug to his face, both hands cupping it to soak up the warmth. "They've been sleeping together," Steve tells him. "For months, for years, maybe. I think they're in love."

"With each other?" Bucky questions; Steve nods. "How'd you find out?"

"Back in Washington, they seemed... different, I guess. I heard Sam sneak into Nat's room the night of the gala." Steve pauses to sip his drink, and then sighs. "I kissed Sam, in my hotel room. And he left and went back to his room and I heard him pacing around for hours before he opened his door. I thought... he walked right past my room, and I didn't realise how much I was expecting him to knock on my door until he knocked on hers."

"Are you sure they slept together, though? I mean... they could have just been talking. It might not-"

"Nat admitted it," Steve interrupts. "I asked her last night, while you were with Sam. She said it didn't mean anything, but..."

Bucky snorts. "They're both idiots," he says. "But Steve, just because it meant something between the two of them doesn't mean it wouldn't mean something for you too."

"She told me she was marked for him," Steve says, letting out a breath. "She told me that when she and I met, nothing changed, but when she first saw Sam, a mark grew across her collarbone."

"Well, shit," Bucky swears. "What was it?"

"Flowers," Steve says, his face twisting with bitterness. "She has fucking  _flowers_ for him, just like-"

"Just like you have for her," Bucky fills in. 

"Just like I have for them both," Steve admits, looking shame-faced. "I didn't tell you. The first day I met Sam, more flowers grew in my mark for Nat. Peonies and valerians, and the daffodils, heliotropes and acacia's doubled."

"Jesus. What do they all mean?"

Steve scoffs. "Anger, romance, new beginnings, joy and happiness, readiness, eternal love, calming. Two of them mean secret love."

Bucky runs a hand through his hair. "Man, I'm glad my mark is plain and simple."

Steve snorts out a laugh. "Yeah, it'd sure make things a lot easier."

"You would think so," Bucky replies. "But apparently not."

"You're not still on that whole 'soul marks don't mean anything,' thing, are you?" Steve questions, his nose crinkling. "Sam told me all about it. It's stupid, Buck, come on."

"Is it?" Bucky asks. "You and me, we had marks for each other, and look how that turned out. You were marked for Peggy, and then you went and died on her. You're marked for Sam and Nat and they're both marked for each other. I think soul marks are what's stupid, Stevie."

Steve's face slackens as the fight goes out of him. "You might have a point," he concedes. "God, wasn't everything just so much  _easier_ back when it was just you and me against the world? I wish we could just... go back to that. To before I fucked everything up."

"Me too, sometimes," Bucky admits with a sigh. "But we can't."

"Can't we?" Steve questions. He's avoiding Bucky's eyes, instead looking down at his hands. He's twisting his hands together, fingers shaking slightly. "Buck, we're both... neither of our relationships are exactly working out right now."

"So you-"

"No, it's not like you're a second choice, that's not-"

"But I've always been a second choice, haven't I, Steve? It's always been about our marks first, not our relationship."

"Bucky," Steve says, finally looking up to meet his eyes. "I just wanted proof that we belonged together. I'm- I'm not like you, Buck. I didn't... I _couldn't_ trust my own feelings. I didn't let myself love you the way you loved me because our marks weren't complete, because I thought that if I  _did_ and you left me... I didn't think I could handle it."

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes. "I get that, I do. Losing you... it killed me, Steve. It was probably the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I can understand not wanting it to happen, I can understand trying to actively avoid it."

"No, Buck, that's the thing," Steve protests. "I was wrong, okay? The reason our marks never finished was because I was on the fence about our relationship, because I was never all in. I think... if I had just let myself love you the way I wanted to, I think we would have worked out."

"Steve, why are we having this conversation?" Bucky asks, opening his eyes. "It's over, we've already rehashed this more times than can be healthy. We can't... there's no going back, is there? We've got to just move on, before we fuck up our friendship too."

"What if we could go back?" Steve asks, his voice breathy. "Bucky, I need- I need to know."

"Steve," Bucky breathes out. "We-"

"Stop me," Steve tells him, leaning forward slowly. He's giving Bucky time to back away if wants. Bucky freezes, his body remaining utterly still until Steve’s lips press against his with only a moments hesitation.

The kiss is, all at once, exactly like it used to be and nothing at all like what it used to feel like. Bucky’s hands reach up to tangle in Steve’s hair almost on their own accord and Steve lets out a broken sound at the feeling. Steve wiggles closer to Bucky and wraps his arms around Bucky's neck, pulling him in.

They break apart moments later, and Steve’s eyes are sad when they meets Bucky’s. “It’s not the same, is it?”

“No,” Bucky says. “It’s not. I’m sorry, Steve, but I think-“

“It’s alright,” Steve interrupts with a sigh. “We just... at least now we know, right?”

“I think I love Tony,” Bucky admits, his voice steadier than he feels. 

"Because you want to, or because you think you have to?" Steve asks.

"I'm not sure," Bucky answers honestly. "I think that loving Tony was always something I was going to do, it just took me awhile to get there. I didn't let my mark for you tell me how to feel, Steve. I wasn't like you, in that way. I loved you because I wanted to, because you smiled at me and it felt like the sun shining. I chose you, and my mark was just... physical evidence of that choice. Tony is... he's something I might like to choose for myself, one day. But that’s the point: it will be my choice.”

Steve's answering smile is weak. "I'm sorry. That was- it was selfish of me to kiss you. I just... I would have spent the rest of my life wondering, otherwise."

"Me too," Bucky admits with a sigh. 

"What are you going to do about Tony when he gets back?" Steve asks. He's still half-sitting in Bucky's lap, but it feels  _right_ in a way none of their interactions have in a long time. It feels like maybe this is what they were always meant to be like. 

"Gets back? Where's he gone?"

Steve blinks at him. "Korea," he answers, frowning. "With Pepper. Didn't he tell you?"

"What's in  _Korea_?" Bucky answers. 

"Pepper's girlfriend lives there," Steve says with a shrug. "Nat told me he left two days ago, in the afternoon. It was all very sudden, apparently. I would have thought he'd tell you."

Bucky shakes his head slowly. "No, we had a... I'm not sure what to call it, even. I think... he's in love with Winter. And I basically told him that it was fine by me, if they wanted to... y'know."

"Is it?" Steve asks, arching a disapproving eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Not really," Bucky answers. "But I just want him to be happy. Even..."

"Even if it's not with you," Steve fills in. "Yeah, I understand that. Maybe too well, even."

"God, we're a fucked up pair, aren't we?" Bucky laughs. "Both in love with people who are in love with someone else."

Steve snorts. "At least Tony's still technically in love with you, and not your best friend."

"I don't think that makes it better," Bucky tells him, and Steve sighs. 

"Want to watch a movie?" Steve asks, reaching out to grab the television remote off of Bucky's coffee table. "I'm usually quite partial to rom-coms, but I'm feeling something a bit less... well, romantic, tonight."

"Sam downloaded a bunch of Disney films for me," Bucky offers. "I think I like cartoons."

Steve smiles. "I think I like them too. Have you seen the Lion King? It's about-"

"Lions?" Bucky supplies, and Steve rolls his eyes. "I figured. Want a snack or anything?"

"No," Steve says, tangling his fingers with Bucky as he leans down and rests his head on Bucky's shoulder. "I'm good."

#

Tony's still in Tokyo when Bucky's great-niece finally responds to his email. She gives him a time and a place and Bucky shows up at the little coffee shop she'd suggested ten minutes early. He recognises a girl standing in the line to order as Harper straight away; she's got Rebecca's eyes. 

"I'm surprised," Harper tells him, eyeing him suspiciously. "Everyone always says I look like my mum."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "I'm assuming your mum isn't white?"

"She's Black, yeah," Harper agrees. "Dad's the white one; I think I look the most like him, but everyone always just sees my skin, I guess."

"I see people haven't changed all that much since I was born," Bucky replies, and Harper nods. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you. I'm Bucky Barnes, but I guess you know that."

"Want a coffee?" Harper offers as they walk up to the counter. "I'm coming off a nine hour shift, so I'm going to need to eat, sorry."

"That's fine," Bucky says. "I don't really like caffeine all that much, but I'd love a cup of tea, please." The man at the counter nods his head and then writes down Harper's order. When they've paid, and Bucky's grabbed their table number, Harper leads him over to a table by the window. The sun is streaming in just enough to warm them up a little. "You come here a lot?"

"I work a block over," Harper tells him, shrugging out of her jacket. "And it's closer than the dorms, so it's easier to eat here between shifts or classes."

"What do you do for work?"

"I'm a receptionist at a doctor's office," Harper answers. "It's only part-time, but it pays the bills while I'm studying."

"And what are you studying? You're at NYU, right?"

Harper nods her head. "Yeah, I've been there for a few years now. I was doing nursing, but I've transferred into law."

"Wow," Bucky says, grinning at her. "That's a big change." Harper shrugs, and reaches out to sip from her bottle of water. "What inspired that?"

Harper eyes him up, contemplating. "I was assaulted two years ago," she tells him, voice matter-of-fact. "They caught the guy, but he got away with it due to 'insufficient evidence.' I don't want other girls to have to go through that."

Bucky blinks at her in shock. "That's terrible, I'm sorry that happened to you."

Harper shrugs. "It's okay, I'm mostly over it."

"You don't just get over something like that," Bucky counters. They're interrupted when the waitress brings their drinks and Harper's sandwich over to them; Harper drinks half her coffee in two sips, before the waitress has even taken a step away from their table. 

"Well, there's nothing I can do about it now," Harper tells him, her face impassive. "Except try and help other people through it."

"That's... an admirable goal," Bucky eventually says. "Anyway, we don't have to talk about it, I just want-"

"To learn more about my great- grandma?" Harper fills in. "My mum sent me some pictures of her, if you want. She still has all of my dad's childhood stuff at home, and there's a lot of photos of Rebecca in there."

"Did you know her well?" Bucky asks.

"A little bit," Harper responds, after swallowing her bite of her sandwich. "I was about nine when she died, so I don't remember much. I know she taught us all sign language, when we were little. Me and my cousins, that's the _we_. We all learnt the basics, but I'm the only one who kept up with it after she died. She taught me how to bake as well, and she never let us go home from a visit without painting our nails."

Bucky feels a soft smile spread across his face. "She loved nail polish," he mumbles. "I remember that. She- she said it was like lipstick, but for her fingers." Harper laughs at this, covering her mouth. "You look just like her when you smile," Bucky tells her, surprised.

"My dad said that a lot too," Harper admits. "Out of all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, I'm the most like her, appearance wise anyway. I think Jack is probably most like her, personality wise. He's my uncle."

"So, he's Rebecca's... grandson?" Bucky questions, tilting his head in confusion.

Harper nods her head. "Yeah, it gets a bit muddled up. Jack's only about six years older than me, because his parents had him pretty late in life, and I was born when my parents were pretty young. A lot of our family is like that, actually, since everybody had kids all over the place. I've got cousins ten years older than me and other cousins ten years younger than me." Bucky starts at that, at  _our family,_ and Harper's eyes soften. 

"It's been a long time since I had a family," Bucky tells her, looking down at the table as he fidgets with his spoon.

"I thought you were living with the Avengers," Harper says, after a beat. "I heard they were like a sort of... D.I.Y. family, I guess?"

Bucky snorts, and it comes out sounding more bitter than he wanted. "The Avengers aren't exactly the big family they like to pretend they are," he admits. "We're a little bit... broken, at the moment. No movie nights or team sleepovers, or anything."

Harper doesn't respond for a moment as she drains her coffee. "That's okay," she eventually says. Bucky slides a napkin across the table, and Harper uses it to wipe away her milk moustache. "All families are a little bit broken. Look at us, for example. You're my great-uncle, and yet you're only about... what, five or six years older than me?"

"Give or take a century," Bucky agrees. "But I'm not just here to learn more about Becca's life, even though I'd really like to see those photos. I'd also like to get to know you, if that's something you wouldn't mind."

Harper's quiet as she mulls it over, and Bucky finishes his mug of tea before she eventually meets his eyes. "You're meant to be a super soldier, right? Like Captain America?" Bucky hums in agreement. "In that case, any chance you'd be interested in giving me a few self defence lessons? I've taken a few different classes, but they never really worked out for me."

Bucky grins wryly at her. "I can teach you nineteen different ways to kill a man with your bare hands," he tells her. 

"I'd be alright with just six," Harper replies. "Welcome to the family, Uncle Bucky."

"Bucky'll be just fine, thanks," he responds, voice dry. Harper smirks, and Bucky can see Rebecca in her grin. He wonders if this was what Steve felt, when he first realised it was Bucky on that bridge. Looking at Harper, it's like seeing the ghost of Bucky's sister. 

"We'll see," Harper hums. Bucky rolls his eyes, but lets his smile widen. Somehow, he thinks they'll get along just fine.

#

The following Tuesday, Friday alerts Bucky that Tony had finally arrived home. Bucky debates sneaking into the lab for an hour, and then eventually decides to storm Steve's bedroom instead. "Why don't we do movie nights?" He asks, instead of knocking. 

Steve, lying on his bed with a sketch book in his hands, frowns at him. "We have strict privacy rules in this house, Bucky."

"Tony has an A.I. monitoring the entire place," Bucky retorts with a roll of his eyes. "You have numerous spies and assassins living here. Privacy went out the window the moment you all moved in, buddy."

Steve sighs, and moves his pencils over on the bed so Bucky can sit down. "What's up? We can watch a movie later, if you want. I'm trying to finish this now, but after dinner?"

"No, Steve, keep up," Bucky replies. "I meant  _we_ as in the team. Did you know that the public thinks we're all like, a family?"

"We are," Steve answers, wrinkling his nose. 

"Well, yeah, in the sense that we almost start a war every time we have different opinions," Bucky concedes. "But we don't do normal family things, or even normal friends things. We barely spend any time together."

"What are you talking about Bucky?" Steve asks, with an exasperated look on his face. "We had breakfast this morning. I trained and had lunch with Vision and Wanda this afternoon. Sam and Nat are- well, they certainly spend enough time together." Steve's mouth puckers, like he could taste something sour, and Bucky sighs.

"When was the last time we _all_ spent time together? In the same room?" Bucky questions.

"At the gala," Steve replies immediately, and then sighs. "Oh, I see your point. So you want a movie night?"

Bucky grins at him. "I figure it'll be the least awkward activity. No guns or talking necessary. How can it go wrong?"

Steve sighs again. "Well, jeez, Buck, I'm sure I can think of a few ways."

"I'll convince Sam and Nat, you get Tony," Bucky tells him. Steve peers up at him suspiciously, a frown clouding his face.

"What are you up to?" 

"Nothing," Bucky protests. "I just think we should at least  _try_ to all get along better. We're all living under the same roof, after all, and apart from Barton, Lang and Van Dyne, who are only even here occasionally, none of us really have any other family. We should try and make the most of the one we've got." Steve's eyes are still narrowed in suspicion, and Bucky sighs. "It'd also help our dynamics on the field if we got along better at home."

Steve perks up instantly at this, and Bucky hides a grin. "Well, I  _have_ been suggesting more team bonding exercises," he says. "This could be a good start, I suppose. What time? I could order us Indian for dinner?"

"Yeah, Friday knows my order," Bucky agrees. "Can you pass this on to Tony, by the way?" He pulls out a small parcel from his back pocket, placing it gently on Steve's bed.

Steve picks it up, looking at him with curiosity brimming in his eyes. "You realise that Christmas was almost a month ago, right?"

"Yes, Steve, I do understand how time works," Bucky replies. "I've just... can you make sure he gets it, please?"

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?" Steve presses. 

"Because I don't think he'd take it," Bucky admits. "Just- leave it on his desk, or something, okay? I'll see you later, does seven sound alright?" Steve nods reluctantly, and Bucky grins at him. "Excellent, see you then."

"Last time I tried to get into Tony's lab, he had Friday block my access," Steve admits, his face sour. "Are you sure you don't want to try?"

Bucky jumps off the bed, heading to the door. "Sorry, Steve, I've got things to do. Movies to pick, popcorn to pop. I'm sure you understand."

"Coward," Steve shouts out, when Bucky shuts the door on him. Bucky wants to argue, but the thing is, Steve's not exactly wrong. 

"Friday," Bucky calls, walking down the hall to Sam's room. "Could you make sure Tony lets Steve into his lab, if he's down there?"

"He's down there," Friday confirms. "I'll talk to him."

"You're the best, Fri," Bucky tells her, before twisting the doorknob on Sam's door. It doesn't click open, and Bucky frowns. "Wilson?" He calls, banging on the door. "What's going on in there?"

When the door swings open, Natasha's standing on the other side. She's wearing one of Steve's SHEILD shirts with some red boxers; she looks like she's just woken up. "What's going on out here, is the better question," she says, raising an eyebrow at him. Bucky frowns at her.

"This was Sam's room, last time I checked," he replies, peering over her shoulder into the room. Sam's sitting at his desk, fully dressed and returning Bucky's frown. "What are you two up to?"

"None of your business," Natasha replies, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. "What do you want?"

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "We're doing a movie night tonight," he tells her, after a moment. "I'm making popcorn and everything."

"What are we, twelve?" Natasha replies, rolling her eyes. 

"As long as there's dinner, I'm in," Sam calls, from behind her. "But I'm not watching another Disney movie with you, Barnes, I swear to God."

"That's fair," Bucky agrees. "You can have the honour of choosing, then. We're getting Indian for dinner, though. That's not debatable."

"And  _why_ are we having a movie night?" Natasha interrupts. 

"Team bonding," Bucky explains. "Steve thinks it'll be good for our dynamics on the field, if we're all good pals off of it."

Natasha looks at him like she knows he's lying, but doesn't challenge him. "Fine," she eventually agrees. "But I call the good lounge."

"Damn it, Nat, that's not how it works," Sam argues. "You can't call it until you're in the room."

Natasha turns around and raises a challenging eyebrow at him, and to Sam's credit, he doesn't even falter. "I just did, though," she replies. Sam just rolls his eyes in response. 

"Seven tonight," Bucky tells them. "Steve's ordering dinner, let him know what you want."

"He knows what I like," Sam answers, and Natasha's mouth twists. 

"Yeah, I'm not touching that one," Bucky says, stepping out of the room. "Can you let Maximoff and Vision know?"

"Maria and Sharon are here today," Natasha says. "I'm inviting them as well. Too much testosterone in the room for me to handle alone, otherwise." 

"Fair call," Bucky agrees. "Sharon's Peggy's niece, right? And Maria is the... deputy director of SHEILD?"

"Was," Natasha corrects. "She works with Pepper, now. Sharon's in the CIA."

"I liked her," Bucky says. "She... I remember her, from Berlin."

Natasha grins at him. "She almost had you."

"No, she didn't," Bucky says. "Close, though. She reminded me a lot of Peggy, didn't even hesitate before jumping into the fight. A lot like Steve as well, actually."

"Yes, well, stupidity isn't limited to one family alone," Natasha responds; behind her, Sam snorts out a laugh. 

"Right, see you two later," he says. Sam calls out a goodbye, and Natasha slips out of the room behind Bucky. 

"You're doing this to spend more time with Tony," she tells him as they head to the elevator. 

"Am I that obvious?" Bucky sighs.

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I've been called unusually perceptive," she answers. "But also, yes."

"I just... I think I fucked up, the last time I talked to him. You know, this whole time, I've been thinking he didn't like me, thinking he didn't want me around. Now I'm thinking that he's been thinking the same thing."

"This all feels very middle school," Natasha replies. "Or at least, in comparison to the movies. My middle school wasn't anything like that."

"Your middle school is the stuff of horror movies," Bucky returns, and Natasha shrugs in agreement. "I'm not all that good at the whole communication thing, alright? I'm trying to work on it."

"Tony's not that great at it either," Natasha notes. "I'm sure the two of you will work things out."

Bucky sighs. "That's what everyone keeps saying," he replies. "But I'm yet to believe it."

"Sam is annoyingly hopeful, isn't he?" Natasha responds, pressing her lips together. 

"He is," Bucky agrees. "But I think we could both use some annoyingly hopeful people in our lives." Natasha doesn't respond, but her shoulders slacken as she lets out a deep breath. "What's going on with you two, anyway? Steve's been pretty messed up lately."

"He's not the only one," Natasha replies. "What's going on with you and Tony?"

"I'm not sure," Bucky says. "I'm trying to figure that out."

"There's your answer," she replies, slipping out the elevator doors as the open on her floor. 

"Say what you want about her, but she sure has great timing," Bucky tells Friday, who laughs in response. 

#

When seven rolls around, everyone on the official Avengers roster (aside from those currently in space) is spaced around the lounge room on the main floor. Sam, Steve and Nat have staked out different corners of the room, all sitting as far apart from each other as they can. Vision and Maximoff are lounging on beanbags on the floor, and Scott is curled up on the recliner, a blanket wrapped around him as he eats. 

Tony's sitting on the same lounge Sam is on, looking too at ease for it to be real, and Bucky hesitates for a moment before deciding to walk over and sit down in between them. "No Rhodes tonight?" He asks, voice soft. Tony looks up from his phone, and shakes his head.

"Had some military business, or something," he says. 

"That's where Sharon and Maria are," Nat calls out. "Sharon was coordinating on something with Rhodes, and Maria was waiting for her. They've already eaten, so we started without them."

"I can see that," Bucky drawls, pointedly looking at the empty containers strewn about the room.

"I saved you some of the vegan Pakora," Tony says, quietly. "And the Subzi Kadhai is on the table behind you."

Bucky smiles at him before he jumps over the couch to grab his food. "I love the twenty-first century," he says, after a few mouthfuls. "Good food wasn't so easily available back in our day."

Steve snorts. "Not that we could afford it, anyway."

"Well, that too," Bucky agrees. "What movie did you pick, Sam?"

Sam grins, clicking a few buttons on the remote. "Steve told me he hadn't seen any of the  _Jurassic Park_ movies," he says, as the movie loads up on the television. "Which is an utter crime against humanity. No offence to the actual inhumane crimes you've experienced, Barnes," he says, shooting an apologetic smile Bucky's way.

"None taken," Bucky says. "Are these the dinosaur movies?"

"Are these the dinosaur movies?" Sam mimics, waving his hands in the air in frustration. "You two are  _killing_ me." He turns to Natasha, a pleading look in his eyes. "Please tell me Hill and Carter will be here soon. I can't go on much longer knowing that I'm friends with people who haven't seen these movies."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but with a fond smile. "They shouldn't be too much longer."

"Their meeting has just finished," Friday reports. "They should be here within five minutes."

"Five minutes of pure  _torture_ ," Sam moans. Bucky stuffs a piece of cheese naan in his mouth, which is an effective way to shut him up. He'll have to remember for later. 

"Gives you time to go make us popcorn, like you promised," Steve tells Bucky, who sighs but gets up anyway. When he's in the kitchen, standing over the stove, Tony slips in. 

"Just getting a drink," he says, when Bucky turns to look at him. "You like orange juice, right? Want a glass?"

Bucky nods and Tony turns to duck his had in the refrigerator. "Pulp or no pulp?" Tony questions. "I always forget."

"So much pulp it's practically still an orange," Bucky replies. Tony pulls the carton out of the fridge, and pours them both a glass. 

"Thank you," Tony says, after he's put the juice back in the fridge and slid Bucky's glass across the table to him. 

"You poured me the drink, Tony," Bucky replies.

Tony rolls his eyes. "For the book, I meant. It was... it was really nice. Thoughtful, even."

"It's nothing," Bucky deflects, turning away from Tony and back to the stove. "I just noticed that sometimes you seem to get a bit..."

"Out of breath while talking?" Tony fills in; when Bucky turns back to look at him, a dry smile is covering his face. "Yeah, it's a side affect from the arc reactor. I'm better now, in comparison to when I actually had it in my chest, but."

"Well I'm glad to hear that," Bucky says. "I just thought this could be a could alternative, for the times when it's still hard."

Tony nods. "Yeah, it will be. I can't believe I didn't think of it before."

Bucky smirks. "You think of enough things, I think we can forgive you slipping on this." Tony snorts, and Bucky's smirk dissolves into a softer smile. "I'm fluent as well, on account of my sister was Deaf, so I can help you practice, if you want."

Tony blinks at him. "Yeah, that would be really good, actually. I'm usually more of a visual learner anyway."

"We could do tomorrow morning, if you're free? I've got a session with Nora at eleven, but before that?"

"I just- I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me, after... when I left, things weren't exactly good between us," Tony stutters out. 

Bucky shrugs. "I think we just... haven't been communicating properly. Who knows, maybe a new language will help us out."

Tony looks surprised when a small laugh bubbles out of his lips. "Yeah, maybe," he agrees. "Looks like the popcorn's just about ready, don't want to let it burn."

Bucky rolls his eyes before turning off the stove. "Steve would actually kill me."

"Well, we don't want that," Tony says, pulling the butter out of the fridge. "Grab the icing sugar from the cupboard behind your leg, Sharon loves it on her popcorn."

Tony waits with him until Bucky's got all of the toppings they could possibly need, and by the time they head back to the lounge room, Maria and Sharon are sitting with Nat. Sam frowns at them. "C'mon, we're all here now, let's start this movie."

"I still haven't eaten my dinner," Bucky protests, passing the popcorn over to Steve. 

"You're a super-spy slash assassin slash have a magic arm," Sam says. "I think you can manage eating and watching T.V. at the same time."

"That's a fair point," Tony says, sitting back down. Bucky sighs but follows him anyway. 

About halfway through the movie, Tony wiggles himself around as he pulls a blanket over his body. When he's done, he's pressed up against Bucky so close that their legs are brushed up against each other. Bucky has to bite his lip to stop himself from saying something stupid like  _I've been wanting to touch you for weeks now_ or  _I'm in love with you_. Tony's hands are clasped together in his lap, and his eyes dart over to Bucky's face; they linger on his lips for long enough that Bucky starts wondering if there's food in his teeth. Tony's eyes eventually flicker up to meet Bucky's before they dart back down to where their legs are touching.

 _I'm sorry_ , Bucky mouths, shifting slightly so his leg is no longer brushed up against Tony. The absence is instantly painful, and Bucky feels the loss more keenly than he has felt anything before. Tony nods his head at Bucky before turning back to the television. He keeps his eyes locked on the screen for the rest of the movie, barely even moving an inch the entire time. Afterwards, Tony is the first to stand up. 

"Well, that was fun. I love dinosaurs, maybe I should see if Bruce is willing to do some experimenting with me when he gets back from Asgard, I'm sure we could create some if we tried hard enough. Not the murderous kind, though, I think we're probably smarter than the the scientists in the movie. We definitely have more degrees than them, anyhow. But anyway, I better get going. Things to build, new elements to discover, you lot know how it is." He's almost halfway out the room when Steve says, bemusedly,  _no, we don't_. 

"I'll come with you," Natasha says, standing up and stretching her arms. "My Widow Bites have been playing up this week, I was hoping you could look at them."

Tony points an accusing finger at her. "We haven't been on a mission in weeks! Why have you been using them?"

Natasha smirks. " _You_ haven't been on a mission in weeks," she corrects. Tony sighs, but leads her out of the room anyway. He pauses at the door, and turns back to Bucky.

"Thanks for organising this, it was fun. I know there's a few more films in this series, so repeat next week?" Bucky nods, but Tony's out of the room before he has time to respond.

"I thought this was Steve's idea," Sam says, peering suspiciously at Bucky, who just shrugs. 

#

The next morning, Bucky heads down to Tony's lab. "I feel like I should warn you," Friday says, when he's in the elevator. "He's going on almost twenty three hours without sleep."

Bucky sighs. "That can't be healthy."

"It is definitely not," Friday agrees. "However, he's at least eaten, so we're doing better than we were a year ago."

"Well, that's good to hear," Bucky says with a roll of his eyes. "Is he ready for me?"

"Of course," Friday says. The elevator doors open in Tony's lab a few moments later, and Bucky steps inside. The room is cleaner that Bucky's seen it before, with everything actually somewhat organised. 

"We've been doing some spring cleaning," Tony tells Bucky, when he notices him looking around. 

"It's... did you do all of this last night?"

Tony blushes. "The bots helped," he answers. Bucky raises and eyebrow, and Tony grins. "Oh, you haven't met them yet, have you? Dum-E, U, come out from wherever you're hiding!"

"What did you just call them?" Bucky asks, and then shakes his head when Tony opens his mouth to explain. "Never mind, I'm sure you've got a good reason." Two robots come whirling around from behind a corner; the smaller one is beeping frantically as it rushes closer to Bucky.

"That's U," Tony says. "And the slower one is Dum-E. Oh don't give me that look, you  _are_ slower, it's not a bad thing, just a fact of life." Bucky beams as he realises Tony's actually  _talking_ to the robots. 

"Are they like Friday?" He questions, reaching out to pat U like he would a dog.

"They wish," Friday sniffs. 

Tony laughs. "They're a lot more... limited, than she is. I built them when I was still in college, so the sort of tech I used to create Friday and J- Jarvis wasn't available yet. I'm surprised you seem to like them, I would have figured you'd be a bit immune to my less-than-genius creations after seeing all the other things I've made."

"You seem to forget I'm from the 40s," Bucky reminds him. "Robots were a foreign concept for us, back then. I know I've seen a lot more advanced things since then, but I'm still always a little bit amazed at how far technology has come."

A fond smile spreads across Tony's face. "Sometimes I think I forget how amazing technology can be," he admits. "I know, logically of course. But I guess it's just all so normal to me that I can't imagine making do without it."

"I can't imagine you without it, either," Bucky confesses. "I think you would have been so bored in any other time."

Tony laughs. "I don't know, I'm sure I could have kept myself entertained. I bet I could have invented the lightbulb before Edison."

"I... can easily see that happening," Bucky laughs. "Anyway, you ready to get started? I can come back, if you want to sleep or something."

Tony's smile slips off his face and he raises an eyebrow. "Friday," he calls. "Are you tattling on me again?"

"I'm sorry, boss, I can't repeat private conversations I've had with our residents," she responds. Tony frowns at Bucky, who holds his hands up in defeat. 

"What she said," he agrees, causing Tony to scowl at him.

"I'm not your boss and you don't have privacy protocols written into your code," he accuses.

"You never know," Bucky protests. "HYDRA fucked around with my mind for long enough, I very well might have them."

Tony's eyes dim at the mention of HYDRA, and he sighs. "I guess it's good if you can joke about it, huh?"

"My therapist certainly thinks so," Bucky agrees. 

"Right. Well, I'm still good to go for a few more hours, so-"

"Where did you want me to start?"

"Well I think I've learnt the alphabet, and I've memorised a lot of the conversational signs," Tony says, reaching behind him to grab the book Bucky had given him off the bench. Flicking through it, he turns back to Bucky. "I guess it's mostly just practice, isn't it? I think I'll be alright with learning how to sign myself, but I'm more interested in learning how to understand other people signing. That's where you come in, I guess."

"Well I can start by signing what I'm saying," Bucky says, doing just that. Tony's eyes instantly drift to Bucky's hands as he watches them move. "One thing I was thinking about, is that you'll need a sign for your name."

"I read about that," Tony replies, attempting to sign as he speaks. His fingers are clumsy and slow, and he has to finger spell  _read_ , but he's a quick learner. "I- okay, I can't sign all of this. It's meant to be personal for every person, right? Like even though Tony isn't that uncommon of a name, the sign I make up won't be the same as another Tony?"

"Exactly," Bucky confirms. 

"What's yours?" Tony questions, signing along this time. Bucky grins as he realises he remembers it. He demonstrates the sign for Tony once, and then repeats it slower. "Is that... that's a J, right? Leading into a book?"

"Most of sign language is pretty obvious," Bucky confirms. "Becca came up with mine when she was younger. I can't remember if it's because I liked reading a lot, or because I was an open book, emotion wise, but it stuck."

"So do you make your own up, or do you get given one?"

Bucky shrugs. "It's different in every culture. I know that it's more common now for the name to be like, approved by the Deaf community, to try and avoid any one having the same sign. But back when I was around, Rebecca was the only Deaf kid in our neighbourhood, so that wasn't an issue."

"Could you help me think of one?" Tony questions. He has to flick through the sign language dictionary for a moment before he repeats his request with his hands.

"I sort of already came up with an idea," Bucky admits, with a blush. Tony gestures for him to show it; Bucky holds his left arm across his chest, his elbow pointing towards the ground and his fingers resting near his shoulder. With his other hand he forms the sign for the letter  _T_ and raises his right hand to the left, pulling it down and then repeating the motion.

"I know that's a T," Tony says, after Bucky repeats the sign a few times. "But I don't understand the other part.

"It's the sign for autumn," Bucky explains, scratching his neck in embarrassment. "Normally this hand is just falling down, meant to represent a leaf. I just turned it into a T, is all."

Tony's quiet for a long moment; when he speaks, his voice is croaky. "Can you show me again?" Bucky repeats the motion slowly so Tony can watch, and soon Tony is able to mimic it perfectly. "I really like that, thank you."

Bucky signs back _I really like you_ , but too quickly for Tony's eyes to follow. "It's no big deal," Bucky he says, aloud. It takes Tony a moment to raise his eyes from Bucky's hands, but when he does, he's smiling like Bucky hasn't just confessed his unrequited love for him.

"I didn't quite catch that, could you repeat it?" Bucky hides a sigh, and then signs out  _it's no big deal_ slowly enough for Tony to mimic a moment later. 

 #

 _I had Friday show me the footage from this morning,_ Tony texts, the next morning.  _And then I double checked the dictionary, just to be sure._ _You like me?_ Bucky scowls at the bright light of his phone in the darkness of his room. 

 _Don't ask stupid questions if you don't want the answer,_ he responds, before chucking his phone across the room in a gentle throw. This is the first mistake of the day. 

"You do, though," Sam says, from the other side of the room. Bucky frowns at him, but doesn't deny it. This is the second. "Sorry, I couldn't sleep. Figured you wouldn't mind me crashing here."

"I saw your pathetic attempt at sneaking in three and a half hours ago," Bucky tells him. "You're even worse than Steve."

"That's a fair assessment," Sam says with a shrug. "You should really talk to him."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Have  _you_ spoken to Steve or Nat yet?"

"It's not the same," Sam protests weakly. "You and Tony- that's easy. Steve, Nat and I? That's three to many people for this relationship to ever work out."

He's obviously quoting Natasha, and just sighs when Bucky calls him out on it. "I don't know why you're listening to her. It's not like she's an expert on relationships."

"It's  _Natasha_ ," Sam counters. "She's pretty much an expert on everything."

Bucky wants to argue, but the thing is, Sam is kind of right. "Not on this, though," he eventually says. "Sam, listen to me. The two of them are  _never_ going to sort this out, so it's gonna have to be up to you, buddy. Steve is too noble, too self sacrificing, too  _stupid_ to make a proper move on either of you, not when he thinks you don't want him around. And Natasha- Nat doesn't think she deserves either of you, so she's probably done something stupid like removed herself from the entire situation and giving Steve her blessing to go after you."

"It was the other was around, actually," Sam mumbles. "The last time we... she told me it was the last time. Told me I should be with him, instead."

Bucky sighs. "Sam, she's not as smart as she likes to pretend. The clear option that solves all of your problems is to  _all_ date, and she knows it. She's just _scared_ , they're both just scared."

"Steve doesn't... he might want Nat, that way, but not me," Sam protests.

"You're not that smart either, are you?" Bucky asks, and Sam rolls his eyes at him. "Look, just- the three of you seriously need to sit down and have a proper fucking conversation. Okay?"

"You know," Sam says, a moment later. "I could say the same about you, Tony and Winter."

"You could," Bucky agrees wryly. "But you shouldn't."

Sam lets out a laugh. "If I have to talk about it with Steve and Nat, you have to talk about it with Tony."

"We're not kids, Wilson, it doesn't work that way. I'm not making some sort of pact with you," Bucky tells him. Sam just sighs, like he's disappointed in Bucky. "I'll think about it, though. Alright?"

Sam smiles at him encouragingly; Bucky throws his pillow at him before rolling over and going back to sleep.

#

They don't talk about it. They run into each other three days later, on the elevator, but Tony acts as normal as he usually does with Bucky. "I heard we're having a visitor today," he says, when Bucky steps inside. 

"Oh, yeah. My great-niece, Harper. She's coming 'round to work out."

Tony's smile is amused. "She's coming all the way up here to work out? You sure she's not related to Steve instead?"

Bucky snickers. "I'm giving her a self-defence lesson," he explains, and Tony instantly sobers up.

"Of course, I'm sorry, I read about that when I found her. She alright?"

Bucky shrugs. "Seems like it's a Barnes family trait to just... pretend bad things never happened."

"Runs in the Stark family, too," Tony mutters. "I'd love to meet her, if you wouldn't mind. I saw that she's studying law, right? Pepper's been on me about doing more charity work within universities. I fund a lot of projects for engineering students, but she'd like it if I spread it around a little bit more. Doesn't want me playing favourites, you know? Anyway, since law students don't really have projects that need funding, exactly, she was thinking we could open up some internships for them. Lord knows we can't have enough lawyers working for us."

Bucky smiles bemusedly at Tony's rambling. "Sure, you can meet her. I'm on my way up to greet her now."

"Ms. Robinson has just arrived," Friday confirms, voice ringing out over the elevator music. "She'll be waiting for you on the next floor."

"Fantastic," Tony says, clapping his hands. "I wonder if she's friends with any medical students? We could sure use a few more doctors and nurses around here, especially if Nat takes over Maximoff's training like she keeps threatening to do."

Bucky blanches. "Nat'll break her," he says, not sounding entirely unpleased about it. 

"Yes, well," Tony agrees. "Rogers is fighting it. But he's too easy on her; she needs to learn how to cope without her powers. His style is... not as versatile at Nat's, that's for sure."

The elevator doors slide open when they reach the next floor, and Bucky steps out first when Tony gestures for him to. Harper's standing in the foyer, looking around her with a slightly dazed look on her face. "Harper!" Bucky calls. She turns at the sound of her name, and a smile spreads across her face when she sees them. "It's good to see you again. You get here okay?"

"You too," Harper says with a smile. "Yeah, the directions you sent were easy to follow." Her eyes flicker to Tony curiously.

“Oh, right, introductions. This is Harper, my great-niece," he tells Tony, who smiles at Harper. "And this is Tony, he’s-” it’s fucking stupid, because Bucky doesn’t even know what to call Tony anymore, other than his biggest regret.

“Iron Man,” Harper fills in, raising a questioning eyebrow in Bucky's direction before turning to Tony and holding out a hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

"You too," Tony says, shaking her hand. "I've heard a lot about you, it's nice to finally put a face to the name." Harper blushes slightly, and Bucky wonders if Tony has that affect on everyone in general, or just members of the Barnes family. Tony's eyes crinkle as he smiles at Harper, and Bucky figures it's probably a pretty universal thing.

"Back at you," Harper says, before wincing. "Well, except that I already knew what you looked like. On account of the fame thing."

Tony turns to Bucky with a grin. "She's adorable," he proclaims. "Can we keep her?" Bucky rolls his eyes when Tony turns back to Harper. "I often adopt random strays, usually they have some form of super power or ability, but I like you enough to break the rule just this once."

"I'm flattered," Harper says with a wry grin. "Are you joining us for the self defence lesson? Or as Bucky likes to call it, _19 ways to gut a man_?" Tony turns back to Bucky with a raised eyebrow.

"In my defence, I never actually said _gut_ ," Bucky says. "I'm usually more partial to the less messy ways of murdering someone."

"That's much less fun," Harper deadpans. Tony looks at Bucky with his head cocked to the side, as if asking for his permission.

"I don't mind if you want to join," Bucky offers. "I can't teach you anything Winter or Nat wouldn't be able to, though."

Tony frowns. "I think you'd be a better teacher than Nat. She can be pretty... strict."

"That's putting it politely," Bucky says with a snort. 

"I'll lead us to the gym, then," Tony decides, grinning at Harper. "Designed it myself, of course, so it's state of the art." They talk the entire way down, and Bucky's surprised at how well they seem to be clicking. From what Steve and Nat have said, he wasn't really expecting Tony to be so...  _good_ with people. He realises now that was a huge oversight, on his part. He should have been listening to his own instincts, should have been reflecting on how Tony had been treating him and the other Avengers, rather than going off what Steve had said. It's funny, though. Even seventy years later, Bucky still seems to have trouble not listening to Steve. 

When they get down to the gym, Tony disappears into the change room to take off his suit. When he returns, he's wearing a tight white shirt and dark grey sweat pants; Bucky's mouth drops open on its own accord, and Harper muffles a laugh into her hand.

"Is there somewhere I can change?" She asks, when it's clear Bucky and Tony aren't going to stop staring at each other without outside interference.  

"Yeah, you can go in there. Or there's another one, behind the door over here. They're not separated by gender, or anything stupid, so you can go wherever you want," Tony says. Harper disappears into the change room Tony had just vacated, and Tony raises an eyebrow at Bucky. "You alright there, Barnes?"

Bucky lets out a strangled sound that he doesn't mean to, and Tony's lips upturn slightly. "Yeah," Bucky says, after he coughs to clear his throat. "I'm good." It's... almost true, he finds. He knows, objectively, that he loves Tony at least a little bit. But its one thing to know that, and another to have it shoved into his face in the middle of the day in their gym.

See, the thing about Tony is: he’s withdrawn, and loud, he's funny when he's not trying, he's generous almost to a fault, and he's intelligent, but more importantly, he's curious and loves to learn. He doesn’t trust easy, and getting him to open up is harder than opening a really tight jar that Steve had used last. Loving him isn’t easy, but Bucky’s is pretty sure that  _not_ loving him is basically impossible at this point.

"I'm good," Bucky repeats forcefully, and Tony's small smile grows. 

"I'm glad," he says, voice full of sincerity. Harper slips back into the room, having changed into an oversized sweater and leggings. 

"Let's get this started, then," Harper says. "I figure it's gonna take some time to learn nineteen ways to-"

"Let's start with the actual defence part before moving onto the gutting," Bucky says dryly. Harper smirks at him. Bucky goes through a few of the different tactics he's learnt over the years, and then has Tony and Harper practice with the dummies they have in the gym. "One of the most important things is learning how to use someone's weight against them," he explains. "You need to find their weakest point, and then use it to your advantage."

Tony makes quick work of putting Bucky's instructions into action, and when Bucky turns to look at him, he's reaching up to wipe sweat off his brow, and Bucky feels his knees buckle at the sight. Harper whispers,  _you're staring_ , like Bucky doesn't know. She might as well say  _you're breathing_ , or  _the world is turning_ , or  _you're in love with him_. Bucky can't help it; he's always worn his emotions on his sleeve.

"I don't know about you, but I could definitely use a break," Harper pants, about an hour later. Tony's dripping with sweat, and Bucky frowns. 

"Sorry, I guess I forget that I'm not as-"

"Weak as the rest of us," Tony fills in. "No need to brag, Barnes. We can't all be super soldiers. Coffee?" He adds, turning to Harper.

"Please," she groans, collapsing in the nearest chair. Tony busies himself at the coffee machine- which used to confuse Bucky, because who wants coffee while working out, but he should have known- and joins them at the table a few minutes later. He slides a mug of coffee over towards Harper who takes it gratefully, and puts a steaming mug of tea in front of Bucky.

"It's Bruce's favourite," Tony explains, sitting down with his own drink in hand. "It's meant to have calming properties, or something. I'm still pretty sure it's just weed, but anyway."

"Thanks," Bucky says, taking a small sip. Tony grins at him before he reaches up to pull his jumper off; his shirt gets caught with it, exposing his bare torso. 

"You don't have the arc reactor anymore," Harper notes, glancing down at Tony's exposed chest. Tony pulls his shirt back down, covering up both the scarred over mark on his skin as well as the vibrant snow storm that's stretched across his shoulder. "I read the rumours that you'd had it removed, but..."

"Too many problems with it," Tony explains, with a faint look of pain on his face. "I- too many people knew about it, knew it was the only thing keeping me alive. After one of them tried to remove it, I knew I had to figure out how to live without it. It just took me a few years to be ready to undergo the surgery to actually  _do_ it."

"Why?" Harper questions. "I just mean... medically, from what I've read about your case, the removal shouldn't have been that difficult in a proper setting."

Tony eyes her as if he's weighing something in his mind, before he shrugs, apparently having decided something. "It wasn't the physical side I had to prepare for, it was the mental. I woke up in a cave, attached to a car battery. I was a bit apprehensive about going back under." Harper immediately looks sorry she even asked, but Tony shrugs off her concern. "It's fine, I'm alright with it now. It just was... a tough time, back then. I think I just wanted to take the time to make the decision, to kind of- reinforce that it was _me_ making the decision."

"I know what it’s like to have somebody else take control of your body," Harper says, after a moment. Her hands are shaking and Bucky reaches out to take her mug before the coffee spills over the edges. "To feel like you’re imprisoned in your own mind, to feel like you’re powerless to stop it. Whenever I catch the smell of the cologne he was wearing that night, I feel like I’m right back in that moment, lying underneath him and wishing I was dead."

They're all silent for a moment; lost in their own memories of being controlled, or modified without their consent. Tony's the first one to break the silence, which pretty much sums him up. "I'd like to offer you a job," Tony tells Harper, who raises an eyebrow.

"I'm still studying," she responds.

"An internship, then," Tony concedes. "As I'm sure you can imagine, the Avengers get sued left and right, so we have a pretty large legal team. I know it's probably not the kind of lawyer you want to be, but any experience will help you get there, right?"

"I want to be a prosector," Harper tells him, causing Tony to grin at her. 

"Excellent, we'll train you up so well that someday you'll help someone sue us," he says. "I look forward to it."

"You know," Harper says, reaching out to take her coffee back from Bucky. Her hands are steadier now, and Bucky's never been more grateful to Tony. "You're not at all like how the media paints you to be."

"I try to keep people on their toes," Tony agrees. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to your assassin lessons, I've gotta go pick up P- Spider Man." Bucky wonders if he should inform Tony that both he and Natasha, at least, are aware of Spider-Man's real identity, but ultimately decides against it. It's kind of cute, he thinks, watching Tony think he knows something the two super-spies he's housing don't.

"It was nice meeting you, Tony," Harper tells him, reaching out her hand for Tony to shake. 

"Back at you," Tony says, shaking her hand. "I'll see you later, Barnes?"

"Another sign language lesson tomorrow?" Bucky questions, voice filling with hope. Tony winces slightly. 

"I think I'm all booked up tomorrow. But I'll keep going over the dictionary you gave me, yeah? I'll be fluent by the time you next see me." Before Tony turns away, he jokingly warns Bucky off breaking any more punching bags, and when he leaves the room a few minutes later, Bucky does just that.

"I'll have them replaced before the day is over," Friday tells him, when he's slumped to the ground afterwards. "He'll never have to know."

"Thanks, Fri, but that's half the problem," Bucky says with a sigh.  

"I get the feeling there's a lot of backstory that I'm missing here," Harper notes, sliding down to sit next to him. "Want to fill me in? I'm a good listener," she promises.

"I wouldn't even know where to start," Bucky admits.

"At the beginning is usually a good place," Harper notes, drawing a bitter laugh from Bucky's lips. "You love him, don't you?"

"It seems like everyone knows but him," Bucky confirms. "I just... it's complicated, you know?"

"When is it ever not?" 

Bucky sighs, and Harper reaches out to pat him gently on the shoulder. "He loves you too, you know. Even if he doesn't know it yet."

"You've known him for all of an hour," Bucky objects. 

"I'm good with people," Harper shrugs. "And- the way he looked at you when you weren't looking at him? It's the same way my partner Quinn looks at me. The same way my dad used to look at my mum. The same way you were looking at him."

"I think you're wrong on this one," Bucky protests. "He- it's complicated," he repeats, lamely. Harper just raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him, and Bucky makes a mental reminder to never introduce her to Nat; together, they would eat him alive. "So, the thing is, when I was capture and brainwashed by HYDRA, I was sent to assassinate his parents. And because of the previously mentioned brainwashing, I've also managed to develop an alter-ego, who Tony is possibly sleeping with."

Harper blinks at him. "When you said complicated, I was imagining like, an insane ex-boyfriend, or something."

"Oh, well I used to be with Steve, who currently lives here and doesn't get along with Tony, like. At all. He's not insane, mostly, but there's definitely a history there," Bucky clarifies, and Harper sighs.

"I think calling it complicated was over simplifying things a bit," she notes. 

Bucky snorts. "You're telling me."

"But... you're marked for each other, right?" Bucky nods, and Harper frowns at him. "So what's the problem, then?"

"Just because we're marked for each other doesn't make it automatically okay between us," Bucky says. 

"Well, no," Harper agrees. "I don't think that's the point, exactly. I think it's more like... the marks appear on us to show that we've got a future with this person, if we want it. What happens after that is up to us, sure, but I think it makes it clear that there  _is_ a future, that there is a  _chance_ , if you only try."

"That's... a very good way to look at it," Bucky says. 

Harper smiles. "You've given me a lot of help today, so I'm going to repay the favour. Go ask him out, or something. Tell him you liked the way his ass looked in those pants, if you have to. But just- one of you needs to kick start this into action, right? Might as well be you."

Bucky spends the rest of the night curled up on Winter's couch. He doesn't want to be in his own room, but he also doesn't want to deal with anybody else at the moment; Winter's apartment was the first place he thought of that fit the criteria. Winter's front door is painted in the same paint Bucky's is, and there's a bowl of chalk on the table next to it. Winter's door is covered in doodles of the Avengers in battle; they seem to be losing in almost all of them. There's Sam, falling out of the sky, Steve being decapitated with his own shield, Clint with an arrow exploding in his hand, and Maximoff has clearly just been stabbed (or maybe Winter just really likes her red leather jacket, and has decided to make it the focal point of the drawing, Bucky's not entirely sure, really). 

Written in the bottom right hand corner, in small writing that is distinctly different from Bucky's own, are the words  _stop cock-blocking me and sort your shit out barnes_. 

 _Well_ , Bucky thinks.  _At least someone in this relationship knows what he wants_.

#

Two days later, Bucky wakes up on the couch in Tony's lab. 

"Oh, hey," Tony calls out from across the room. "I was wondering when you'd wake up. You fell asleep in the middle of the movie, jerk." Bucky blinks at him, and Tony frowns. "You're not Winter," he accuses, and Bucky nods his head.

"Bucky," he agrees, and Tony sighs. "What day is it?"

"Saturday," Tony responds, at the same time Friday replies with, "Monday." Tony blinks in surprise. "Really, Fri?"

"Well," Friday replies. "It's 12:43am Monday morning. So you're not too far off, Boss."

"I'm starting to get concerned about how often you sleep," Bucky tells Tony, stretching when he sits up. "Or not sleep, would be more accurate."

Tony waves a dismissing hand. "I get by just fine. Tea?"

"Please," Bucky says, thankfully. "My mouth tastes like ass." Tony quirks an eyebrow, and Bucky blushes. "What were you and Winter watching?"

"Jurassic Park," Tony answers, looking over his shoulder as he makes his way to the coffee machine. He fills up his mug first, and then pulls another one out for Bucky's tea. "I figured he didn't get to watch it with us the other day, so I'd recreate the experience, just. Sans everyone else. We had Indian though."

Tony fills up Bucky's mug with hot water before dunking a tea bag in it. He hands Bucky his mug before he perches on the armrest of the couch. "With popcorn and orange juice?" Bucky asks, before sipping his tea. 

Tony wrinkles his nose. "Winter doesn't like orange juice, says the pulp is gross."

"He's gross," Bucky replies, which draws a laugh from Tony. Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket, and sighs when he realises it's Winters. 

"Yours is over there," Tony supplies. "On the bench, here, let me grab it." 

"It's cool, I've got it," Bucky says, jumping up to grab it before Tony can. He unlocks it and is instantly bombarded with text messages.  "Harper liked you a lot," Bucky says, after reading a few of the messages. Most of them are from Sam and Steve, wondering where the hell he is, but a handful of them are from Harper. "She might just take you up on that internship offer."

"I'll let Pepper know," Tony replies. "How'd the self-defence lesson go? I don't think I've seen you since then."

Bucky shrugs, sliding back down onto the couch cushion next to Tony. "She seemed to enjoy it. Hopefully it helps her feel a little bit safer."

"That's good," Tony says, a soft smile on his face. "Maybe we could open up some classes to the public, one day. Between you and Nat, I'm sure we could help a lot of people feel safer."

"That'd be cool," Bucky agrees. "You're really generous, you know. I wish you'd let more people see that about you." Tony averts his eyes and takes a long sip of his coffee. "I'm serious," Bucky pushes. "You let everyone think you're the same guy who went into that cave in Afghanistan almost ten years ago, but you're not him, not anymore."

"I've still got a lot to make up for," Tony says, quietly. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. "And you think I don't? You think Nat and Maximoff don't? Hell, even  _Thor_ has probably done a lot of bad things over the last few thousand years, or whatever. You're a good guy, Tony, I wish you believed that."

"Why do you care?" Tony asks, tiredly. It's not the kind of tired of a man who hasn't slept in a few days, but it's the bone-deep tired, the kind of tiredness someone has been carrying around for years, for decades. 

"Because I care about  _you_ ," Bucky answers, surprising even himself with the honesty. "Look, I know we've been avoiding this for weeks, for months. I know we're both completely hopeless, and I know that you've got this whole other thing with Winter going as well, but I-"

“Don’t do this,” Tony warns, and there’s murder in his voice, and something far more deadly- the fragility frightens Bucky. Tony has never been (has always been) fragile.

The thing is, he _has_ to do this, because he can't keep doing  _this_. Doing this back and forth where they both know there's  _something_ , but neither of them have the guts to put it into words- and maybe something Harper or Sam or Steve had said has finally sunk in, or maybe it's the way Tony looks in this light, like he's something real, something _tangible_ for the first time, or maybe it's just  _time_. "Why not?" Bucky presses. "We both want this, we-"

"We  _can't_ , you're-"

"We can," Bucky protests. "Tony, we can have this, you just have to  _want it_."

Tony's eyes are darting around frantically, looking anywhere but at Bucky. His mouth is tight with frustration. "Me wanting it has never been the problem," he eventually grits out.

"Jesus, we've really fucked this up, haven't we? Tony, I've wanted you for weeks, if not months," Bucky admits. "When I'm around you, I- you have  _no_ idea what you do to me, do you?" He reaches out, and tangles his fingers with Tony's, pulling their joined hands up to rest on his chest. "See? This is what my chest feels like every time I see you." 

“Why?” Tony asks, pressing his hand harder onto Bucky's chest, where his heart iss almost rocketing out of it—trying to flee, or trying to feel something.

"Why?" Bucky repeats, incredulously. "Jesus, Tony, why  _not_?"

"That's not an answer," Tony chokes out. 

"When I was younger, back before the War, before Steve, even, my sister Rebecca and I would build forts in our living room. We'd use all up all the sheets and blankets in the house and make a total mess, and our parents would always be furious when they got home, but the twins loved it, so it was worth it," Bucky starts, a small smile crossing his face as he loses himself in the memory. "After the twins fell asleep, Rebecca and I would talk about anything and everything. She was my best friend, I think. I loved her a lot. We'd talk about all sorts of things, and imagine how our lives would end up. I was going to be a factory worker, because that's all I knew to dream of, and she was going to be a... a teacher, I think. The memories I have of her are fuzzy; I remember loving her, but I don't remember all the details." Their hands are still linked and resting on Bucky's chest, and Bucky carefully pulls Tony's hand down with his so they're resting in his lap. "I remember we talked about our soul-mates. I remember wanting the usual things, you know; someone smart and caring and funny. I think the only reason I remember this so clearly is because for years afterwards, I had to try and reconcile what I wanted out of a soul-mate with what I got from Steve, and they never seemed to match up."

"Why are you telling me this?" Tony asks, staring down at where their hands are joined. 

"Because," Bucky replies, squeezing his hands. "Because I didn't get what I wanted with Steve. I wanted a lot of things, Tony. I wanted someone who was curious about the world, who wanted to help build it into something better for my kids. I wanted someone who could make me feel like I had everything even on the days where my family had to go without meals, someone who could make me feel warm even during weeks where my dad didn't earn enough to heat our house. I wanted someone I could have fun with, someone who I could learn with. I wanted someone who I could love and I wanted someone who would let me love them in return."

Bucky detangles their fingers and cups a finger under Tony's jaw, gently pushing his head up so he has to look at him. "Tony, I wanted  _you_ , I just didn't know it yet."

Tony crashes their lips together and when they part, long seconds later, Bucky almost chokes out  _I’m in love with you_. Tony’s lips swallow up the words before they even leave Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky says, instead,  _I want you_.

Tony’s eyes soften as he gently takes Bucky’s hand in his own, raising it up to his chest this time. Their fingers, intertwined, rest on the scarred over hole in Tony’s chest.

“You've got me,” he chokes out, but it sounds like  _I’m in love with you too_.

Bucky pushes him back onto the couch; it's covered in oil stains and coffee spills, it's lumpy and uncomfortable, but Bucky can't imagine a better place for this to happen for the first time. They're still kissing when Bucky works his hand down in between them, pressing gently on Tony's zipper. "Can I?" He whispers, and Tony nods frantically.

"Please," he gasps out, before capturing Bucky's lips with his own again. Bucky pulls the zip down so hard it breaks off in his fingers, and then works his hands in Tony's pants. Tony lets out a loud moan when Bucky's fingers first grip around his dick. 

"I figured you'd prefer this hand over my other one," Bucky says, into the kiss. Tony groans, thrusting up into Bucky's hand. Bucky grins at him, pulling him back into another kiss. Their teeth clack together, and Tony reaches up a hand to tangle it in Bucky's hair, pulling him closer than Bucky thought possible. Bucky runs a finger over the tip of Tony's dick, and Tony's moan is swallowed up in the kiss.

"This is going to be quick," Tony warns, a moment later. "I- it's been awhile, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," Bucky says. "It's been over a hundred years, for me, talk about  _awhile_." Tony lets out a laugh that verges on a sob when Bucky twists his hand just right. His fingers are coated in Tony's come, and Tony's eyes glaze over when Bucky reaches his hand up to suck them clean. 

"Oh my god, you're-  _Jesus_ ," Tony breathes out. "Gimme a minute, I just need to catch my breath."

"It's okay, I'm not expec-"

Tony rolls his eyes before rolling Bucky over. "I can be pretty selfish when it comes to the last cup of coffee or the best seat on the jet, but I'm always generous in this particular department."

"I'm eternally thankful for that," Bucky says, when Tony pulls his pants down. 

"Can I- is it alright if I use my mouth? My fingers are kind of cramped from working all night," Tony says, sounding unsure. 

Bucky groans at the sight, his head flopping back down on the armrest on the couch. " _Is it alright_?" He mimics. "Jesus, yes,  _please_."

"Just checking," Tony says, before wiggles down on Bucky's body and swallows him whole. Tony's mouth is- it's incredible, amazing, fantastic. This is the best Bucky's felt in years, in  _decades_. "Wow, what a compliment," Tony says, pulling off of Bucky's dick with a wet  _pop_ sound. 

"My brain-to-mouth filter might be a bit compromised right now," Bucky warns him. Tony smirks before leaning back down; he licks at Bucky's dick, alternating between long stripes up and down and small kitten licks around the tip. "Not gonna be long for me, either," Bucky warns. Tony hums around him, and the vibrations shoot right up Bucky's spine. Tony's hands are gripping Bucky's thighs, and Bucky tangles their fingers together, squeezing Tony's hands in his own.  Looking at their joined fingers, Bucky thinks his hands might be able to re-learn how to be hands instead of weapons. "I'm gonna-"

Tony hollows his cheeks and pulls Bucky further into his mouth at his words, and Bucky comes down his throat at the mere  _sight_ of it. Tony waits until he's clearly finished before pulling himself off. He props himself up on his elbows, and wipes at his mouth, smiling up at Bucky. 

"That was-"

"Yeah," Bucky agrees. "Jesus, I think I need to sleep for a few more decades, after that."

Tony grins, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I've got some work to finish up, so-"

"You can spare a few minutes for a post-sex nap," Bucky tells him, pulling him up to rest on his chest. The couch really isn't big enough for the two of them, but Bucky doesn't mind having Tony lying on top of him.

"Okay," Tony agrees, voice quiet. He lies his head on Bucky's chest; together they fall asleep to the sound of Bucky's heartbeat. 

#

Bucky wakes up alone before the sun has even risen. Tony's left a note taped to Dum-E who beeps sadly at Bucky. _I’m sorry. I just need more time_. The note is crumpled in Bucky’s hand before he even has time to fully process what this means, but it quickly becomes clear what last night was, to Tony: a huge fucking mistake.

He's not surprised when Natasha calls him two hours later and says, “Hey, I just got a message from Sharon; Tony’s just shown up at her place. What happened? Is he alright?”

“No,” Bucky replies, and hangs up. 


	7. winter (part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait on this chapter! The good news is we're only two chapters out and there's not a whole long of drama left. Mostly good feelings from here on out, so I hope you enjoy!

Bucky spends two days sleeping on the couch in Tony's lab, missing him so much that every breath aches with it. He wonders if this is how breathing feels like for Tony all of the time. He wonders if Tony constantly feels like his chest is caving in. He wonders how Tony has survived this for so many years when Bucky doesn't even know if he'll make it through the week if this keeps up.

Friday has to lock down all of the vents after Natasha makes her third attempt to get into the lab and his phone blows up with messages almost immediately afterwards;  _call friday off and let us in_ (Natasha),  _c'mon man u need to eat. we'll leave u alone if u want to come out for food_ (Sam),  _bucky if you dont let me in right now ill break the door down_ (Steve),  _bucky what happened are you okay????_ (Steve),  _bucky please we're worried let me in i just want to help_ (Steve),  _tony's still at sharons, i know you're in there by yourself, what happened?_ (Natasha),  _Hi, you've missed our last few sessions and I just wanted to let you know that you can call me if you want to talk. I hope you're doing okay_ (Nora),  _nats asleep and friday unlocked the vents for five minutes. im sending redwing down with some food, take care of yourself_ (Sam). 

On the third day, Bucky sends Tony a picture of Dum-E and U beeping sadly as they dart around the lab looking for him.  _Come back_ , he captions it.  _We miss you. What happened doesn't have to change things, if that's what you want._

Two hours after he sends it, the little  _read_ bubble appears underneath the message, but Tony never responds. Bucky crumples his phone in his hand as easily as he'd ruined the note Tony had left him and then covers himself with a blanket and tries (fails) to go back to sleep.

#

The next time he wakes up, Winter's left a note taped to his forehead;  _whatever you've done, you better fix it right now._ It's three in the morning and Bucky feels both like he hasn't slept in a week and like he's done nothing but sleep for the four days Tony's been gone. He throws Winter's note in the garbage and lets Dum-E set fire on it a few hours later; U stands by with a fire extinguisher he'd managed to scrounge up from somewhere in the lab. The bots look gravely disappointed in him, but also oddly fascinated with the small fire in the trash can.

His phone rings on the fifth day.  _Tony Stark_ flashes across the screen, over and over again. Bucky lets it ring out eleven times, and then rejects the twelfth call. 

 _pick up_ , Tony texts.  _i know youre there. we need to talk._

Bucky sends back  _should have thought about that before you left then_ and Tony rings him another seven times. Bucky doesn't answer any of them, but then Tony leaves him a voicemail just saying  _please_. 

His voice is softer than Bucky's ever heard it, and it sounds hoarse, like he's been screaming or drinking or crying or maybe a combination of all three. Bucky picks up the nineteenth call of the day, saying  _hey_  and Tony drops the phone in surprise.

"That was almost as dramatic as Nat often accuses me of being," he says, when he picks the phone back up. Bucky hasn't heard his voice in five days and it pierces his heart in a way he wasn't expecting; it hurts, but he hadn't realise how much he had missed it, missed  _Tony_ until now. Hearing his phone on the other end of the phone feels like that moment when you’ve been underwater and holding your breath to the point where your lungs feel like they’re on fire and then you  _finally_ reach the surface and can breathe again.

"What do you want, Tony?" Bucky asks, not unkindly. He feels tired, and his bones ache with it. He doesn't think he has the strength to hear Tony try and let him down gently.

"That's what I've been trying to work out," Tony responds. 

Bucky sighs. "I'm not doing this over the phone, okay, it's just-"

"I understand," Tony says. "I'm sorry"

"For which part?" 

Tony's voice is small when he responds. "All of it."

Bucky hangs up the phone nine seconds later, and gets up off the couch for the first time in hours, in days. "You can open the doors, Fri," he says, tiredly. The elevator doors open instantly, like Friday's been waiting for him. Natasha's asleep on the floor, curled up into a ball. "Have you been there for the past week?"

Natasha rolls her eyes at him. "No," she denies.

"Close to it," Friday says, speaking over her. Natasha frowns at the ceiling. 

"Tattletale," she accuses, but it lacks any real bite. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Bucky sighs. He doesn't have the energy to deal with his own problems right now, let alone Natasha's. "Come on," he says, reaching a hand down to her. "Let's go get something to eat."

Natasha slips her hand in his, and lets him pull her up. "I want waffles," she mumbles, resting her head on Bucky's shoulder. 

"Waffles it is," Bucky agrees as the elevator doors slide shut on Tony's lab.  

 #

Natasha disappears after they've eaten, there one moment and then gone the next before Bucky even blinks. Steve slips into her place almost right after, and gently leads Bucky to his bathroom.

"This isn't my room," Bucky observes, looking around. Steve's walls are bare bar a few photos he's printed out and stuck above his desk; Bucky's in some of them, the Bucky from before the War, before HYDRA, before Tony. There's one of Sam and Steve crammed in a photo booth, making stupid faces at the camera. There's one of Natasha and Steve at a press event of some sort; they're both in full uniform, and they're smiling at each other.

"I bribed the photographer to give it to me," Steve tells him, when he's done looking at the photos. "And we're here because I figured you wouldn't want to be in your room right now. Alone, I mean."

Steve hands Bucky a towel. "We're really friends now, huh?"

Steve smiles with a fond roll of his eyes. "Yeah, Buck, I guess we are. Now go shower, please, you look like shit. There's shampoo and conditioner in there; go nuts." After Bucky's cleaned himself up, Steve wraps him in a fluffy blanket and pushes him towards the bed. "I know you haven't been sleeping properly," he accuses. "Get some rest, alright? I'll be right here."

"Don't leave," Bucky mumbles, already feeling his eyelids grow heavy as he lies down. 

"I won't," Steve promises, dimming the lights. Bucky's asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. When he wakes, Steve leads him back out to the kitchen for breakfast, or dinner; Bucky's not really sure what the time of day is anymore, his sense of time has been thrown off completely after spending days in Tony's windowless lab. 

When the kitchen door is pressed open ten minutes later, Bucky's expecting it, but he still jolts in surprise. Bucky hadn't realised just how much he was expecting Tony to look completely fine until this moment where it became so obvious he was anything but. Tony looks like he hasn't slept in a week, and he's wearing black rimmed glasses that Bucky hasn't seen before. Bucky almost chokes on his banana at the sight of it, and Tony looks almost faintly amused for a brief second. 

“Hey, Rogers," Tony says, turning to Steve. "Can you give us a minute?"

Steve scowls at him. “I’m not leaving you alone with Bucky, not after the last t-“

“Steve,” Tony breathes out. “Please.”

It’s probably the most emotion Steve has ever seen from Tony, or maybe it's just the first time Tony has called him something other than  _Cap_ or  _Rogers_ in awhile, but he drops his spoon in his bowl and stands up to leave. Sometimes Bucky forgets that Steve and Tony have years of history before he wandered into their lives, sometimes he forgets that they've got problems in their relationship that don't revolve around him. It's painfully clear now that there's a lot of bad blood between them, that they've only been pretending to half-way get along for his sake. 

Steve claps his hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he passes by, and leaves the room with another glare aimed at Tony. “I’m sorry,” Tony says to Bucky, slipping into the seat Steve had just vacated. “I’ve got a lot of things to say to you, but that’s probably the second most important thing, so I thought I’d just get it out of the way.”

Bucky’s voice is strangled when he replies. “What’s the first?”

Tony looks him dead in the eye, which makes Bucky realise that he never really had, before. “I’m in love with you,” he says. His voice is steady and strong and Bucky feels in his bones that it’s true.

“You’re an asshole,” he responds. Tony’s face scrunches up when he sighs.

“I know,” he agrees.

“I told you how I felt and you left,” Bucky accuses. “You left me,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know where you’d gone or when you were coming back or even  _if_  you were coming back. I woke up after we spent the night together and you were  _gone_.”

“I know,” Tony repeats, without breaking eye contact.

“I shouldn’t forgive you,” Bucky tells him. “I should walk away right now and never look back.”

“But you won’t,” Tony says. His words are confident, but the way his voice wavers is anything but. 

Bucky lets out a deep, broken breath. “I know.”

“I left because I got scared,” Tony tells him. “It was... arguably one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done, and I’ve flown a nuke into space, hit on Natasha, and given out my address to a known terrorist. And that’s just in the past ten years. Rhodey could tell you stories about college-”

"Why'd you do it?" Bucky interrupts. "I thought... I told you that I wanted to be with you, what was so scary about that?"

"That wasn't the scary part," Tony replies. "The scary part was admitting that I wanted you back, because then it meant you'd be something I could lose. It wasn't something I had even admitted to myself, not properly. I knew I wanted Winter, but that was... our relationship is a lot different."

"You want him sexually," Bucky summaries, and Tony sighs.

"Well, yes. But he didn't ask for anything else. I don't know if it's because he was better at reading me than you are, and knew I'd leave if he pushed it, or if he just doesn't want me for anything more."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "It's the first one, most definitely." Tony smiles slightly, but it's a shadow of what it normally is. "I'm sorry if I pushed you."

"I needed the push," Tony replies. "After the other night, when I left, I... I did what I always do. Whenever it gets to be- too much, I shut down, I lock myself in my lab and I build something until I’m not thinking about it anymore. That… it wouldn’t have been enough, with you. When I was in Korea, with Pepper, it was torture. I was just there because I was trying to avoid my feelings for you. She jam-packed our trip with so many things that it almost worked, too. But when I left last week, I… it wasn’t because I didn’t want to think about you. It was because I did, because I  _needed_ to think about it someplace quiet, someplace by myself.”

“Did it work?” Bucky asks.

Tony laughs. “I ended up staying with  _Sharon_. I don’t know why I ever thought it’d be a quiet place to think." Bucky lets out a small snort; he'd heard a lot about Peggy's niece from both Nat and Steve, and quiet is definitely not a word he's ever heard used to describe her. "That first night, when she answered the door, I didn’t say anything for six hours. She was so worried that she called Rhodey to come over, and he asked me what had happened and all I could say was  _I want to go home_ and they asked me why I didn’t just do that, and I didn’t have an answer,” Tony says. "So Rhodey got us all drunk and Sharon made me sit down and talk about it with her, and she’s fantastic, by the way, I offered her a job as a Stark Industries therapist, but she’s too happy over at the C.I.A.” Bucky grins, and Tony's eyes soften. "She helped me figure out that one of the reasons loving you scared me so much was because I hadn't been expecting it. Because it kind of just hit me, one day, and I went from being mildly curious about you to realising I wouldn't...  _couldn't_  survive losing you."

"When did you have this realisation?"

“I don’t know when I fell in love with you,” Tony tells him, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just woke up one day already in it. I think I didn't realise it sooner because falling in love with you didn't feel like falling, you know? I didn't feel like I was getting to know you, it felt like I was remembering you, like maybe a part of me remembered knowing you in a past life, or something else less incredibly cheesy and lame, maybe."

Bucky lets out a breathy laugh, and Tony's eyes crinkle when he smiles in return. "It was the same for me, I think. I guess maybe this soul mate thing isn't as ridiculous as we thought, huh?"

Tony's the one who laughs this time, and Bucky feels his heart soar at the sound. "It was a few months before Christmas. Maria Hill had been leading the investigation into HYDRA since SHIELD ended and she came over to S.I. She had a team that dealt with most of it, but I asked her to make sure she gave me any leads about the people who might have had a hand in... hurting you. It was like... the third weekend of September, maybe? I can't remember, exactly, but we tracked down someone who had a hand in developing the technology that they used to wipe you, after your missions."

Bucky feels all the blood drain from his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were making such great progress with everything," Tony explains. "You'd already said you didn't want to be on the Avengers, really, and I asked Rhodey to check out your psych reports and he said that your sessions were going well, and you seemed like you were healing. I didn't want to bring anything back."

"That wasn't your choice to make," Bucky accuses, and Tony sighs again, running a hand through his hair.

"I know, Buck, I screwed up. I was doing exactly what Rogers was, and I shouldn't have. I know that you're more capable than I thought, but... you'd already been through so much, and I didn't want to add to that." Tony looks genuinely apologetic, so Bucky reaches out and laces their fingers together. 

"It's alright, just- not again, okay?" Tony nods his head earnestly. "So you went after him?"

"Her," Tony corrects. "And yeah, we did."

"Nat," Bucky realises with a sigh. "She told me she was visiting the Barton's."

"She did," Tony says, mouth twitching. "Afterwards, anyway. We stopped for dinner on our way home. Laura made cheesecake for dessert, it was lovely." Bucky snorts, and Tony grins at him. "We tracked her down, and I don't think I realised how angry I was at her until Nat had to stop me from really hurting her. I didn't think it would upset me that much, but she... she wasn't apologetic in the slightest. She  _enjoyed_ hurting you, said it was only a matter of time until they got you back. And then I realised that I couldn't let that happen. Realised I wouldn't live through it if it did."

"I can look after myself," Bucky reminds him. "I've been doing it a lot longer than you've been alive, even."

Tony rolls his eyes. "Please don't go all 'back in my day' on me, when you look young enough to be- well, not my kid, exactly, but still pretty young."

"I'm technically fifty years older than you," Bucky reminds him.

"The years you spent frozen don't count," Tony protests. 

"Do too," Bucky argues. "Anyway, go on."

"She was telling us about how the chair worked, about how many times they wiped your mind. She told us how confused you were each time they woke you up, about how... she said you were messed up, when you came back from killing my parents. I guess a part of you must have remembered knowing my dad. She was this sweet looking older lady, and I wanted to rip her throat out, just to stop her from talking. Nat informed me that I probably loved you, afterwards."

Bucky laughs. "She has a habit of doing that."

"She was right, of course, because she always is. And that scared me a whole lot, because of everything I've just said, but also... I hadn't loved anyone since Pepper. Losing her almost destroyed me, and I didn't think I could do it again. I didn't... it was scary to think about losing you, and it was scary to think about loving you. But I think the thing I was most scared of was the hope. Hoping you'd love me back, hoping that we could work through decades of trauma together, hoping we could make this last. There was the whole thing with you and Steve, and you were both still working your way through that. I didn't think I could compete with that."

“It’s okay if you don’t have hope in this,” Bucky tells him. “It’s okay if you’re scared and it’s okay if we screw up. I believe in this, believe in  _us_ enough for the both of us.”

"Being together..." Tony starts, his mouth pinched in a frown. "It's going to be hard, Bucky. I'm not good at relationships, I'm not good at trusting and opening up to people. I'm working on it, I swear, but I can't undo decades of bad habits any time soon. And that's not even mentioning the issues this might cause within the team."

Bucky scrunches his nose up in confusion. "The team?"

"With Steve," Tony clarifies. "Things are already... tense, between him and I as it is, but this won't help."

"This has nothing to do with Steve," Bucky tells him. "I'll make sure he knows that."

“Do you still love him?” Tony asks, sounding like it physically pains him to ask the question.

“I’ll always love him,” Bucky replies, because it’s true. “But not like I used to. We kissed, while you were in Tokyo, if that’s what you’re wondering about. I know Friday likes to gossip.”

“She didn’t say anything,” Tony says. “She- she would have wanted me to hear it from you, I guess. Or she didn’t think it was important.”

“It was important,” Bucky corrects. “But only because it meant nothing. Kissing Steve… it was like coming home, in a lot of ways. But- you know when we have the cleaners come in, and all of the furniture gets moved around a little bit when they’re vacuuming?” Tony hums his agreement. “It was like that. It felt exactly like I remembered, but off, slightly. It wasn’t- we aren’t- it’s over, between me and Steve. I’ll always love him, but I’m never going to be _in_  love with him again.”

“And he feels the same?”

“We talked about it,” Bucky confirms. “He gave us his blessing. I think we both just had to be sure. I think we both just needed the push, to get on with our new lives.”

“And did it work?” Tony asks, biting his lip. Bucky smiles at him.

“I know that this will be hard, Tony. You're not the only one with bucketloads of baggage to work through, but no matter the outcome, I know that you’ll be worth it,” Bucky says, holding Tony’s face in his hands. 

"I don't know where to go from here," Tony admits. "I don't know how to do this. When I was in the cave in Afghanistan, with Yinsen, I had to carry around a car battery because it was the only thing keeping me alive. I couldn’t take two steps without it. I built the arc reactor so I didn’t have to carry the battery anymore, but I still depended on something to keep me alive, something to stop the shrapnel from piercing my heart. And then it was used against me when Ob- Stane found out about it, and the main reason I took it out, even though the surgery was risky and terrified me a little bit, was because I didn’t want to be dependant on it, on anything. I think I felt the same about you. Like- like losing you might kill me, and I don't want people to find out about that, Bucky, because then you'd be put at risk."

"Hey, don't think like that. Because first of all, I'm already at risk because of my own past. And you, you’re an  _Avenger_ , you risk your life every time you put on the suit, every time you fly into battle." Bucky pauses, and looks Tony in the eyes. “Tony… I know that we’ve both loved and lost before. Love is always a risk, I know that, but… loving you is worth it. Loving you outweighs every risk and trumps every fear. I’m not scared to love you anymore, Tony. I know that our marks could fade and everything could change, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take, as long as you are."

Tony's lips curve up slightly, and his entire face lights up with it. "You know, none of the history books ever mentioned what a charmer you were."

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Tony,” Bucky says, reaching out and tangling their fingers together. “Would you like to go on a date?” 

“With you?” Bucky rolls his eyes, and Tony smirks. “Just checking. I’d love to.”

#

When they emerge from the kitchen ten minutes later, Tony's lips are bruised and Bucky's hair is a tangled mess. They're laughing when they step outside, but Tony's laughter cuts off at the sight of Steve and Vision on the other side of the door. Steve blushes, clearly embarrassed to be caught out eavesdropping, but Vision merely smiles at them.

"Does this mean you've worked through your relationship troubles?" He asks, gesturing down to their joined hands. 

Tony grins, and Bucky swears he feels his heart grow three sizes at the way his eyes light up with it. "Yeah, Viz, I guess it does. Have you two been listening in this entire time?"

"No," Steve denies, at the same time Vision nods earnestly. 

"Captain Rogers seemed quite concerned that Sergeant Barnes was in distress," he elaborates. Bucky quirks an eyebrow at him as Tony laughs again. 

"I'm sure he was," Tony agrees, mildly. 

"You know you can call me Bucky," he tells Vision after a moment. Vision smiles at him, cheekily, and Bucky sighs when he realises he was messing with them. "You've been spending too much time with Tony," he accuses, and Vision's smile widens.

Tony frowns at Bucky. "Hey, this is all Friday's fault, not mine."

"I have to confess that might be true," Friday agrees. "Also, I'm glad you two have worked things out. I'm very happy for you both."

"Thanks, Fri," Bucky says, smiling up at the ceiling. Tony rolls his eyes, but not before he shoots a quick grin upwards as well as he squeeze's Bucky's hand.

"What he said," he agrees. Steve is still peering between Vision and Tony with suspicion in his eyes, and Bucky detangles his fingers from Tony, reaching out to clap a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Come on," he says, leading Steve down the hall. Steve blinks at him.

"Where are we going? Are you sure everything's okay now? Maybe I should talk to Tony and-"

"That won't be necessary," Bucky interrupts. He's smiling, but he makes his words sharp. "You've got your own relationship troubles Steve, you'd do well to stay out of mine."

Steve's mouth twists in embarrassment, but he doesn't back down. His determination is almost endearing, which isn't a thought Bucky has had since they were still teenagers. "I just want to make sure you're happy," Steve says. "And if that means you're with Tony, I just want him to... not be his usual self about this."

"Steve," Bucky says, stopping mid-step. They're nearing the bedrooms now, and Tony's definitely out of earshot. Bucky's not so sure about Vision's hearing, but he guesses this will just have to do. "I  _want_ Tony to be his usual self. His usual self, faults and all, is who I'm in love with. Me and Tony are really none of your business anymore, okay? If it's going to work between us- which is what I want, Steve, so badly- I'm going to need you to stay out of it. He can't be looking over his shoulder every time we so much as disagree about what movie to watch, waiting for you to come and ream him out. I'll let you know if I want your help, alright? But right now all I need is your support."

Steve smiles at him, his eyes shining. "You've got my support, Buck, of course you do. I just want you to be happy."

"I already am," Bucky tells him, grinning. He starts walking again, leading Steve past his own bedroom. "And I want you to be happy as well, Steve."

"I am," Steve says, too quickly. "You don't need to worry about me, Buck, I'm fine."

"You're a liar, is what you are," Bucky says with a roll of his eyes. "And a coward, which is not a word I ever thought I'd use to describe  _you_ , of all people."

"That's not fair," Steve says, voice quiet. "You don't know what-"

"I know enough," Bucky interrupts. "I know that you love Sam and you love Nat and they love you too. And maybe each other, but I think they're both still in denial about that part. Nat is, at least. Sam's probably the most well-adjusted out of all three of you, which isn't really saying much. You need to sort this out, Steve, not because you guys could be great together, but because you're terrible apart. And also, I'm sick of listening to all three of you idiots complain about each other in various forms. It's exhausting, and "

Steve lets out a hoarse laugh, but when he replies, he looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. "Alright," he agrees. "I'm gonna fix this, Buck. Thank you."

"I know you will, punk," Bucky says, knocking on Sam's door. Sam opens the door, but Bucky can see Natasha perched on his desk. Her hair is a tangled mess, and she's wearing sweatpants with holes in them; the bags under Sam's eyes look almost painful, and they both look like they haven't slept in days. "Good luck," Bucky tells Steve, before turning on his heels and walking away. 

Bucky hears the low rumble of Sam's confused voice behind him, and crosses his fingers just in case. He has faith in Steve, mostly, but a little luck never hurt anyone.

#

The next day, Tony's in Bucky's kitchen when Bucky wakes up. "I thought we could have breakfast together," Tony says, twisting his hands together nervously. "That's a thing couples do, right?"

Bucky laughs, sliding into the chair across from Tony. "We don't have to follow a script, or anything. I think we should just do what we want and hope for the best."

Tony sighs in relief. "That sounds great, honest, but I do want breakfast, so."

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Bucky asks, eyeing Tony's shaking hands with suspicion. 

Tony averts his eyes and takes a bite of his croissant. "I got enough," he says, through a mouthful of food. 

"Really," Bucky says, sarcasm lacing his tone. "Because your hands are shaking like you've not slept all night and instead have had about six cups of coffee."

Tony swallows his mouthful, and sighs. "It was only five," he says. Bucky rolls his eyes in response, and Tony grins. "But it was for a good cause, I promise!"

"To be fair, your inventions are almost always for a good cause. Doesn't mean you should be sacrificing sleep for them, though."

Tony waves a hand dismissively. "I've spent my entire life not sleeping properly, I'm not about to start now. Anyway, aren't you curious about what I was making?"

"I'm always curious about what you do," Bucky says with a shrug. Tony's eyes soften, and a small smile lights up his face. 

"God, you're disgusting," Tony responds, a beat too late. He's still smiling though, so Bucky doesn't take him too seriously. 

"So tell me, what have you been sacrificing your sleep for?"

"I've been working with Harper to develop a line of accessories for women," Tony tells him. Bucky raises an eyebrow, and Tony elaborates. "Not just like, for fashion, although I'm sure Pepper would love it if we moved S.I. in that direction, and actually, now that I'm thinking about it, that could be an interesting venue as well-"

"Tony," Bucky interrupts. 

Tony sighs. "Right, I'm rambling. So we're making jewellery, not for fashion purposes, but to try and prevent assaults from happening."

"You're gonna have to give me a bit more than that, babe," Bucky says. Tony blinks at the pet name, but brushes right past it; Bucky's glad, because he's a little embarrassed that it slipped out. 

"I programmed all of them with miniature AI's; nothing as advanced Friday, or even Dum-E or U, really, but women will be able to store emergency contact numbers as well as any necessary medical information in them, and they all come with trackers. So if they're ever in distress, whether it be like, an allergic reaction or seizure or being assaulted, they just have to hold their finger on it for three seconds and it sends out alerts to the appropriate services as well as the numbers they'd put in," Tony explains. 

"God, I love you," Bucky responds, after a long drawn out moment. "Did you do all that just for Harper?"

Tony squirms under his gaze. "And you," he says, with a shrug. "It just... it got to me, the other day. I had to build myself over fifty Iron Man suits to feel safe, and I still wake up from nightmares on a regular basis. Harper... normal people just don't have that option, not really. You know, the Avengers were created to step in for big world problems, like alien invasions or crazy robots or whatever. But that doesn't mean we aren't capable of helping with the smaller scale issues, which are way more frequent." Bucky's silent for a long moment, too busy looking at Tony who blushes at the attention. "It's not a big deal, really, and it was mostly Sharon's idea, anyway, we were talking about Harper when I-"

Bucky surges across the table and pulls Tony into a kiss; he tastes like syrup and too much coffee, and his fingers tangle Bucky's hair as he gasps into the kiss. "You're amazing," Bucky says, when he finally pulls back. Tony's pupils are dilated, and his lips are bright red from their kiss; Bucky adjusts them so he's sitting in Tony's lap, wrapping his arms around Tony's shoulders. "Seriously, I just- I don't know why I waited so long to do this."

He leans back in, and Tony pushes him away gently. "Hey now, what kind of guy do you think I am? We haven't even been on a first date yet, Barnes, you've got to put some more work in."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "We've already slept together, idiot. And doesn't this count as a date?"

"That's a fair point," Tony agrees. "But unfortunately, I have to meet Peter and Harley in-"

"Eight minutes, Boss," Friday supplies.

"Yes, exactly, so we can't-"

"Eight minutes is  _more_ than enough time," Bucky interrupts. Tony groans as Bucky rolls his hips into him, and Bucky smirks at him. 

"The next time we do that, I don't want it to be a few quick blowjobs," Tony tells him.

"Hey, I didn't see you complaining about it then, buddy."

Tony rolls his eyes. "I just mean that I don't want it to be like, a hormone fuelled thing. I've had a lot of one night stands, after Pepper, and-"

"No, it's fine, I totally get it," Bucky interrupts. "You're right, anyway. We should at least try and do this properly, and if that means taking you on a date first, well, I'll do it."

"You did ask," Tony reminds him. "I figured you had a plan."

Bucky grins at him. "Oh, I do," he says, before leaning back in and kissing Tony again.

Half an hour later, when Tony's down in his lab with the kids blowing things up, Bucky knocks on Sam's bedroom door. "I need a plan," he says, when Sam opens the door. Sam just sighs, and steps to the side to let Bucky in. "I'm meant to be taking Tony on a date and I have no clue what to do."

"I thought you weren't taking advice from me anymore," Sam comments, lying back down on his bed. Bucky flops down next to him with a groan. 

"This is an emergency," he explains, and Sam snorts in response.

"I don't know," Sam says with a shrug. "Why don't you take him out dancing, or to bridge club or something. Whatever it is you old-folks do."

"Rude," Bucky replies. "And technically, you're older than me, jerk."

"No," Sam argues. "You're about sixty years older than me, asshole."

Bucky grins at him, and Sam rolls his eyes in response. "I missed you, man. Thanks for sending all the food down, and all."

Sam waves a dismissive hand at him. "Thanks for pushing Steve to talk to us," he says, after a beat. "We ended up making up and had some fantastic sex; you'd be surprised how much fun it can be with an extra p-"

Bucky's loud groan drowns out Sam's words. "I do  _not_ need to hear about this, man, come on."

Sam smirks at him. "It's not like you and Steve haven-"

"Wilson, I like you most of the time, but I'm also not opposed to ripping your vocal cords from your throat if you don't  _shut up_ ," Bucky threatens. It's a testament to their friendship that Sam doesn't even blink at the threat. 

"Most of the time, huh?" Sam parrots with a grin. "Glad to see I've moved up from 'occasionally'."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "You've just been demoted back to casual acquaintance, asshole. And you'll go back to 'co-worker I only talk to during work hours' if you don't come up with a good idea soon."

"I hardly know Tony," Sam points out. "I'm hardly the best person to talk to about this. Why not ask Nat?"

Bucky blushes. "I was worried it went badly between the three of you," he explains. "You were the safest choice, if that was the case."

"I feel like I should be offended," Sam responds, looking anything but. "But that's an understandable assessment. Since everything's fine, though, you can go bug Nat." 

"You're a useless excuse for a friend," Bucky says, pushing himself off of Sam's bed and heading towards the door. 

"Barnes," Sam calls out, just as Bucky's hand rests on the doorknob. "Thanks for talking Steve into talking to us. And- I'm happy for you and Tony, really."

Bucky's smile softens. "Back at you, Wilson."

He finds Natasha in the vents above the kitchen after fifteen minutes of searching, which is a personal record for him. "You're about an hour ahead of anyone else, bar Clint," she notes.

"I'm pretty proud of that," Bucky says. Natasha merely raises an eyebrow and closes her book. "I need help planning a date."

Natasha laughs. "And you came to me?"

"You know Tony best, I think. Apart from Rhodes, but he's in an undisclosed location on some secret military business, so."

"What about Pepper?"

Bucky frowns. "I figured that could get kind of awkward. And... I sort of want to keep our relationship ours, you know? I know there's bound to be overlapping, I get that, but I want to avoid what I can."

"That makes sense," Natasha agrees. "When's this date meant to happen?"

"Tonight, maybe. Or tomorrow, if I need the extra time."

"And Tony's down in the lab with Peter and Harley?" Bucky nods in confirmation, and Natasha grins. "That's handy; you'll have all day to plan and he won't even think to interrupt you. Normally he's very nosy, but world war three could break out and he wouldn't notice if he was with the boys."

"Plan  _what_ though, is my problem," Bucky reminds her. "I don't want to attempt anything too flashy, because a) I'd be using his money, so that kind of defeats the purpose, and b) it's not really anything special, since he  _has_ all the previously mentioned money."

"What about something completely simply then? Dinner and a movie?"

Bucky shrugs. "Is that not special enough, though? I want to start this off right."

"You killed his parents," Natasha tells him. "And then you slept together and he vanished for a week. You two have no chance of starting this off right."

"Well that's just rude," Bucky replies. "And also that's exactly  _why_ I want to make this like, the new start. Or something."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "You can't just restart life, James. And you shouldn't want to, either. All of the bad stuff that's happened between you two has led you to where you are now, and you have to think of that in a positive way."

"Jeez," Bucky says. "You get laid once and turn into the love guru. You've lost your touch, Romanova."

"Bite me," Natasha returns, but her small smile lessens the effect. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure you could buy Tony a happy meal from McDonalds and he'd still think it was the most romantic moment of his life."

"He does love fast food," Bucky muses. Natasha snorts, and Bucky grins at her. "Well, guess I'll go see what's on at the cinemas. Maybe I can get us seats in the back row."

He waggles his eyebrows at her, and she laughs. It's the happiest sound he's ever heard from her, and she raises an eyebrow when he tells her. "I'm not thanking you," she says. "We would have worked it out eventually, even without your assistance."

"Please," Bucky replies, with a roll of his eyes. "You three would have died single and sexually frustrated if I didn't interfere."

"Get out of my vents, Barnes," Natasha says. Bucky smirks at her, and Natasha smiles back as he leaves. When he gets back to his room, he has Friday help him figure out how to book movie tickets online, and then makes reservations at an Italian restaurant down the street from the cinema.

"There's also a gaming arcade on the first floor of the cinema complex," Friday tells him, once he's booked everything. She brings up the website on his laptop, and Bucky flicks through a few photos. 

"These weren't around when I was alive," he tells her. "Looks like it could be fun, though."

"Boss loves them," Friday says. "I feel like I must warn you that he is ridiculously competitive."

Bucky grins up at the ceiling. "So winning makes him happy, then?"

"That's the understatement of the century," Friday agrees, her voice dry. "Mr. Hogan will be picking up both Mr. Parker and Mr. Keener in about fifteen minutes. I've tried informing them, but I'm having trouble dragging them away from their work."

"I'll go down at let them know," Bucky says. He closes his laptop and slides it back inside his desk drawer before heading towards the elevator. 

"You haven't met the boys yet, have you?" Friday questions.

"I've met Parker once or twice, but as Spider Man," Bucky replies. "I'm pretty sure his identity is meant to be a secret, though."

"It is," Friday agrees, amusement lacing her voice. "But I don't think anyone expects much privacy in this building anymore."

"It wouldn't make sense to," Bucky notes. 

When the elevator doors open into Tony's lab, U comes racing over to greet Bucky, but nobody else acknowledges his presence. Tony is leaning over a desk taking notes as Peter talks a mile a minute; Harley's seated with them, and only occasionally interjecting. Bucky watches in silence for a few minutes as they all chat, and he can't shake the feeling that the Tony he's looking at now is like nothing he's seen before.

His shoulders are relaxed in a way Bucky isn't used to; his eyes are full of happiness and he seems more peaceful, somehow. More content. He already knew that Tony often wore a mask, but he didn't realise just how often. He's only seen Tony like this a handful of other times, and never around anyone aside from himself, Pepper or Rhodes. 

It's more endearing than Bucky expects it to be, and when Harley finally notices him, he's leaning against the doorframe with a smile stretching across his cheeks. 

"Tony, did you know that there's an assassin standing not three feet away from us?"

Tony reaches out to flick Harley's ear. "There's almost always an assassin within three feet of us, Harley." He glances over his shoulder, and smiles when he sees Bucky. "Lucky for us,  _that_ particular one is on our side."

Peter mumbles something that sounds like  _are you sure?_ and Bucky fights to hide his grin. "For the moment, anyway," he agrees. "I've been sent down to let you know that Hogan's on his way to take the boys home."

Tony frowns as he glances down at his watch, and then sighs as he realises the time. "I can't wait until you two finish school and no longer have curfews."

Harley rolls his eyes. "Then we'll be in college, and wont be able to come 'round as often, idiot."

"It's completely and utterly unfair that the only people I like to talk science with are actual children or living in space," Tony laments. 

"Who's in space?" Harley questions.

"Bruce," Peter replies. He's shoving things back into his backpack as they talk; Bucky spots what he assumes is the formula for the webbing he uses. "He should be back soon, right Mr. Stark?"

Tony rolls his eyes, but a fond smile spreads across his face. "Call me Tony, Pete, come on. And yeah, I think he and the Asgardians will be back in a few days. I'm not entirely sure how space-time works."

"There's an idea for another PhD," Bucky suggests. Tony briefly looks intrigued by the idea before he sighs and shakes his head sadly. 

"I just don't have the time right now," he says. "Maybe in a few years."

"Maybe Banner could look into it," Bucky says. "Having first hand experience would certainly be helpful."

"You're not wrong," Tony agrees. "Alright kids, time to get going. May will have my head if you're late again, Parker."

"Aw, it was one time," Peter protests, blushing. Harley smirks at him, and Tony flicks him on the ear again. Harley brushes his finger away with the air of someone who's done it a hundred times before. 

"May's scarier than Loki and Barnes combined, buddy. I'm not about to cross her again."

"I like the sound of May," Bucky comments, and Peter sighs. "There's not many people scarier than me."

"Natasha is scarier than you," Peter responds, before his eyes dart around the room in fear. 

"Oh, by far," Bucky agrees. "And don't worry, she's probably with Sam and Steve by now, you're in the clear."

"For now," Harley says, and Peter scowls at him. "Same time next week, Tony?"

Tony nods at him. "I'll have Happy pick you up after school. Bring your webbing, Pete, I'm sure Bruce would like to check it out when he gets here."

"Alright, will do," Peter agrees. The elevator doors open with a ding, and Friday's voice rings out above them.

"Mr. Hogan is waiting in the lobby," she announces. 

Tony reaches out to ruffle Harley's hair and then turns to pull Peter into a one-armed hug. "Stay in school and what-not," he says, waving to them as they head into the elevator. 

"Don't do drugs," Bucky interjects helpfully. Both Harley and Peter roll their eyes, but the grin that stretches across Tony's face is fond enough that Bucky ignores them. 

"So, is this date still on?" Tony questions when the elevator doors close behind the boys. "Because I might need to clean up a bit beforehand if so."

" _Might_?" Bucky mimics, glancing down at the oil covering Tony's hands and jeans. 

Tony shrugs. "Depends if what you've got planned requires clean clothes."

"It also requires a shower," Bucky confirms, and Tony sighs. "I'll get you from your room around six? And also, I'm banking on you having a car we can take tonight. I can steal Nat's if not, but-"

"I quite like you alive, actually, so let's not steal something from Romanoff," Tony interjects. "If you're all good to go, you can go have a look in the car garage and pick whatever you want. There's a few to choose from." Bucky feels his lips lift in a grin, and Tony's eyes light up at the sight. " _Finally_ ," he says. "I've been waiting for someone to share my enthusiasm for cars with for years."

"I would have figured Steve would have filled that part," Bucky replies. "He loves fast cars."

"I don't think the two of us in a car would go down well for anyone," Tony says, voice dry. Bucky rolls his eyes but nods his head in agreement. "You can take any of them for a test drive, if you've got nothing else planned for the next few hours. After I clean up I've gotta call Rhodey about some War Machine upgrades."

"Sounds like a plan," Bucky agrees. "Just be ready to go at six, alright?"

On his way to the elevator Tony passes by Bucky and kisses him on the cheek. He has to bounce up on his toes to be able to reach Bucky's face, and Bucky swears his heart skips a beat at the sight.

"See you then," Tony confirms before he disappears into the elevator. 

#

During dinner, Tony's foot brushes up against Bucky's underneath the table too many times for it to be accidental. 

"Did you know, I think this is my first date in almost seventy something years," Bucky says, during dessert. 

"You're doing great," Tony praises, causing Bucky to roll his eyes. "Seriously, though, you picked a nice place. I love pasta."

"I love pizza," Bucky replies. 

"And cake, apparently," Tony says, eyeing the empty plate in front of Bucky. "Good thing I'm not the biggest fan, huh?"

"I would have saved some if you said something," Bucky protests. "But also, now you have extra room for popcorn."

Tony perks up instantly. "I  _do_ prefer popcorn to cake," he muses. "Does this mean we're seeing a movie?" 

"I got us seats in the back row," Bucky confirms, with a waggle of his eyebrows. Tony laughs, and Bucky feels his smirk dissolve into a soft smile. 

"Which cinema did you choose?"

Bucky narrows his eyes. "Did Friday give me up?"

"She may have mentioned something about keeping my competitive side leashed a little bit," Tony admits. "So I don't scare you off, I guess."

Bucky reaches out to tangle his fingers with Tony's. "Nothing could scare me off, Tony."

"Gross," Tony responds. "You ready to head off? I think I need to beat your ass in air hockey so I can attempt to forget about all these emotions."

"You can do whatever you want with my ass," Bucky says with a leer. Tony rolls his eyes, and manages to look mostly unaffected, but Bucky can see the tightening of his jaw. 

"Just for that, I'm unleashing all my competitive ambitions on you. I was going to take it easy, but not anymore."

"I think I can handle it," Bucky replies. "You know, former assassin and all."

Tony sighs. "Living around super people and actual Gods is bound to give me a complex one day."

"You could probably kick Steve's ass if you were in the suit," Bucky helpfully interjects. "And back before he had the super soldier serum, you could have easily beaten him."

"He weighed about twenty pounds soaking wet before the serum," Tony says. "Dum-E could have beaten him."

"Well," Bucky says. "You're not wrong. Anyway, you want to get going then?"

"Yeah, just let me get the check," Tony says, signalling their waiter. After he's paid and they've wiggled out of their booth, Tony looks at Bucky appreciatively. "Most people usually try to impress me by insisting that they pay for dinner."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "I figure I'm already pretty impressive. And anyway, you fund the Avengers which is how I get paid, so it still would have been your money regardless."

"Being rich is both a blessing and a curse," Tony agrees. "Mostly a blessing."

Bucky snorts and slips his hand into Tony's as they walk out. "You're a blessing."

"You're surprisingly sappy," Tony retorts. Bucky shrugs his shoulders.

"Hard not to be," he replies. "I guess you just bring it out in me." There's silence as Tony peers at him, and Bucky eventually sighs. " _What_?"

"I was expecting you to make a joke like  _I bet I can bring out something in you_ or something," Tony answers. His eyes are twinkling as a grin lights up his face. 

They're out of the restaurant now, and Bucky chances a quick glance around before pushing Tony up against a door. "I would have said something far less tacky," he tells him, before he kisses a line up Tony's exposed neck.

"Like what?" Tony gasps out, locking his fingers together around Bucky's head. 

"I can't think straight right now," Bucky tells him, before bringing their lips together. Tony sighs into the kiss, and Bucky's teeth catch on his lips as they part.

"I've been waiting for this all night," Tony says, when they break apart after a few long moments.

"I've been waiting for this for _months_ ," Bucky responds. "Waiting for  _you_."

"You have me," Tony tells him. His voice is strong even despite his breathlessness, and Bucky believes him. He leans back in, and as he kisses Tony he presses them further into the wall. "Forget the movie," Tony says with a gasp. "Let's just-"

"I'll go bring the car around," Bucky interrupts, forcing himself to pull away from Tony. "Be back in a minute."

" _Hurry ,_" Tony tells him. His eyes are blown and his lips are bruised from Bucky's kiss and Bucky has to close his eyes for a few seconds before he can find the strength to walk away.

They're both in the car within forty six seconds, and Bucky feels like he's practically vibrating with anticipation. "It's a fourteen minute drive home," Tony tells him after a quick glance at his phone.

"Bet I can get us there in under ten," Bucky responds. Tony grins as he taps something into his phone. 

"Friday's keeping an eye out for cops. We should have nothing but green lights on the way back as well."

"God, I love her," Bucky says, pulling away from the curb with a screech of the tires. He gets them home in eight minutes and forty seconds, and hauls Tony into his lap across the gearstick when Tony informs him. 

"Someone's eager," Tony mutters against his lips. Bucky shrugs his shoulders as he slips his hands underneath Tony's shirt. "Can't you at least wait until we get to the bedroom? I do have  _some_ standards." Bucky scoffs but uses his free hand to swing open the car door; he doesn't let go of Tony as he steps out, and it takes him a moment to notice that they're standing. Well, that Bucky is standing, anyhow. "I feel like a koala," Tony says, looking down at their joined bodies. Bucky snorts out a laugh, and Tony sighs. 

"You wanted to go the bedroom and I didn't want to let go of you," he explains. "Seemed like a good compromise." Tony responds by wrapping his legs tighter around Bucky's waist and kissing him hard. Bucky's never been more glad for his strength and agility than he is right now. He manages to get them to Tony's floor without incident and gently puts Tony down when they get there. Tony pouts at him at the gesture. "Sorry, I gotta go to the bathroom, quickly, I'll just be a minute."

"Hurry back," Tony says, pulling his shirt off. Bucky's mouth fills with saliva as he drinks in the sight of Tony's bare chest; he's covered in scars, but Bucky is too. 

"You're beautiful," Bucky tells him.

Tony rolls his eyes, but his cheeks darken ever so slightly. "Go on, then," he says, shooing Bucky towards the bathroom. 

When Bucky's finished, he walks back into the living room to find the lights dimmed. "Is that music playing?"

"Friday enacted the romance protocols," Tony confirms. 

"Nice," Bucky murmurs, pulling Tony back in. 

"Bedroom," Tony gasps, wrapping his arms around Bucky's neck before leaning in to kiss him again. Bucky's lips part as Tony's tongue presses gently against them; Tony groans into his mouth, and Bucky pulls back a second later, slamming into the bookshelf behind him hard enough to leave a bruise. The light in Tony's eyes dims, and it’s like that moment when a cloud covers the sun and suddenly everything’s dreary. Like you can’t remember a time when sunlight lit up your life. “What- did I do something wrong? I thought-”

“It’s not you,” Bucky gasps out. “I- you taste like apples.”

Tony blinks at him. “Yeah, it’s my lip balm. I put it on when you were in the bathroom. What-”

“The first time I kissed Steve was under the apple tree in my backyard,” Bucky says, frantically searching around the room for something to drink, something to wash the taste away. “It was spring, the apples were ripe, we’d just been eating them.”

Tony’s jaw slackens, and he wipes at his lips as if to remove the balm. “Jesus, I’m sorry, I didn’t k-”

“It’s not your fault,” Bucky tells him. “I just- I need to leave, okay? It’s not your fault.”

He’s out of the room before Tony can say anything, swinging himself up into an open vent shaft that Tony leaves open for Winter and Natasha. He'd noticed the opening the day it had appeared, but had never needed to use it before, but tonight he does. It's the quickest way out of the room, and he's less likely to run into anyone on the way to Nora's office this way. 

When he gets there, he manages to knock on the door at least once before barging in; luckily, Nora's actually there. She drops her paperwork on her desk and looks at him with such concern that Bucky feels his knees buckle.

"Bucky?" She says, standing up. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"No," Bucky gasps, falling into the chair she pushes towards him. "I kissed Tony, and-"

He can't even get the words out, is the thing. Can barely breath, can't focus on anything that isn't the taste of Steve on Tony's lips. "It's okay, just breathe," Nora says, rummaging around in her desk. She pulls out a bottle of water and passes it to Bucky; he drains the entire thing in seconds, and feels a bit better when he's done. "That's right, in and out, you're okay," Nora says, gently rubbing his back. 

"His lap balm was apple flavoured," Bucky eventually manages to get out. Nora's eyebrows snap together in confusion before her eyes light up in understanding only seconds later.

"Oh, Bucky," she murmurs softly. "I'm so sorry. That must have been pretty confronting, huh?"

"I'm over him," Bucky says forcefully. He's telling Nora this because it's a fact, because it's undeniable, but also because he needs to remind himself. "I'm over Steve, I swear, but-"

"But sometimes things will take you back to being with him," Nora fills in. "And it might hurt, it might make you sad or angry, and that's  _okay_ , Bucky, it's  _normal_." Bucky wants to ask her how could this ever be normal, how he could be so in love with Tony that he felt it with every beat of his heart and yet still feel like this about Steve, but he can't get the words out. The thing that makes Nora a great therapist, though, is that she always seems to know what he's thinking before he does. "It doesn't mean you're still in love with him, or even that you miss him. This would be completely normal even despite the extenuating circumstances surrounding your relationship. But the relationship you had with Steve largely grew during your involvement in the war, and it ended there as well. Steve was the first person to break through past the conditioning HYDRA had put you through. It's understandable that this would upset you the way it has."

"That's not entirely true," Bucky says, after a moment. Nora merely raises an eyebrow at him. "That Steve was the first person to break through to me," he elaborates. "Tony- he recently told me that he'd tracked down a woman that used to work with HYDRA, used to work on  _me_. Apparently I was... distressed, after I killed Tony's parents. Apparently a part of me remembered knowing Howard Stark. A part of me mourned him, even as I killed him."

Nora's quiet for awhile as she processes this new information, and Bucky takes advantage of her silence to close his eyes and try to remember how to breathe. "Are you feeling better?" she asks, when Bucky finally opens his eyes. He manages a small nod, and Nora smiles encouragingly at him. "Bucky, I'm quite confident you're just experienced a panic attack."

Bucky snorts. "No shit."

"Yes, well," Nora says, with a roll of her eyes. "Have you had one before?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Nothing that severe."

"I wonder if a part of you already knew Tony was your soulmate," Nora muses. "We'll never know, obviously, but it would make sense. You weren't overly close with Howard, and you didn't even know Maria, right?" Bucky nods his head in confirmation. "It's just odd that  person you hardly knew managed to break through your conditioning." Bucky shrugs, and Nora blushes. "Sorry, it's not at all relevant, really. I was just thinking out loud."

"It's okay," Bucky says. "I think you distracted me enough to kind of knock me out of it."

"Well that's good then," Nora says. "Let's pretend that was my intention." Bucky snorts, and Nora smiles. "Did you explain to Tony why you ran off?"

"Briefly," Bucky replies. "God, I've probably fucked this all up now. He'll be convinced I'm not over Steve, and-"

"And you'll just have to tell him that you are," Nora interrupts. "Bucky, he had a soulmate before you, I'm sure he'll understand. You just need to explain exactly what's going on in your head. Tony knows all about triggers, I'm sure he'll be able to realise that this has  _nothing_ to do with him, or Steve, even. If he can't, send him here and I'll set him straight."

"You're the best therapist I've got," Bucky tells her, after a long moment filled only with the sound of his breathing.  

Nora grins at him. "I know I'm the only therapist you've got, but I'll still take it." 

# 

Bucky spends another twenty minutes in Nora's office, and then spends two hours sulking around the building, working up the courage to go back to Tony. Eventually, he gives in and asks Friday where he is.

"In his lab," Friday fills in. "I'll bring the elevator up for you."

It's so late it's morning by the time Bucky slinks into Tony's lab, but Tony's still wide awake and waiting for him. "After Afghanistan, I couldn’t stand my lips being dry anymore,” Tony says, after Bucky makes his presence known. “It was so dry over there, my lips were cracking and all I could taste for months was blood. When I got home, Pepper accidentally bit my lip hard enough to draw blood when we were kissing, and I had a bad enough panic attack that I blacked out for a few minutes. She bought me the lip balms the next morning so I’d always be able to taste something else. So I’d always remember that I wasn’t back there.” Bucky’s eyes soften as Tony talks, but his body his still tense, and he doesn’t relax into the couch like he usually does. “I won’t wear the apple flavour again. Dum-E already destroyed it in the blender this morning, anyway.”

Tony turns back to his suit, and the lab is quiet for the next thirty minutes. Eventually, Bucky flops down on the ratty old couch with a sigh. “Did he put it in Vision’s daily smoothie?” Bucky asks, and his voice doesn’t sound as broken anymore.

Tony cracks a grin, swivelling around in his chair to look at Bucky. “Mixed it with Pepper's vegan rocky road ice-cream, some of Rhodey’s favourite bourbon, and two minute noodles.”

“The beef flavoured ones that Scott loves?” Bucky asks, laughing.

“It looked so disgusting that I wanted to barf,” Tony confirms. “Vision drank it all in thirty seconds flat, it was pretty impressive.”

"I- do you want to talk about it?" Bucky asks. Tony raises an eyebrow at him.

"Do you?"

"I figured you'd be upset," Bucky explains. "I prepared this huge speech about how it had nothing to do with Steve, really, and that you have nothing to worry about, and-"

"I don't need a huge speech," Tony interrupts. "I know PTSD when I see it, Buck. For months after Pepper, I wanted to puke every time I so much as opened my condiments cupboard and saw the salt and pepper shakers. I know you and Steve have history, and I'm not looking to change that. You told me it was over, told me you didn't love him anymore, and I believe you. If you want to give me a long ass speech to reaffirm that, go for it, but I don't need it." 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Bucky says quietly.

“I’m the only person beautiful enough to hang out with you and not develop a jealousy complex, it’s only fair that the universe shoved us together,” Tony responds, grinning as he sits on the couch next to Bucky. "Come on, let's put on a movie and have a cuddle. Have you seen the Twilight series yet?"

"What's it about?"

"Teenaged vampires," Tony answers. "Fri, could you pull the screen down, please."

"I'll load up the movie as well, Boss," Friday responds. A screen drops from the ceiling and a second later it's filled with images of a forest. 

"Friday's a little bit in love with Kristen Stewart," Tony whispers to Bucky, like it's a secret, like Friday can't hear their every breath. 

"She's a brilliant actress," Friday responds, her voice tight. "That's all."

Bucky grins as Tony raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "Anyway, these came out a few years ago. Pure gold, if you ask me. Mostly in an ironic, comedic kind of way, but anyhow. Thor loved them, although I think he just genuinely thought they were good films."

"Why're we watching them if they're  _not_ good films?"

"Bad movies are the best kind of movies," Tony replies. 

Bucky just sighs as he rests his head on Tony's shoulder, tucking his feet underneath him. "The future is confusing," he murmurs. Tony wraps an arm around him and Bucky feels the vibrations from Tony's laughter echo down his body.

"Wait until we watch the Star Wars movies," he says. 

"I love you," Bucky responds, reaching out to rest his hand on Tony's knee. 

Tony's eyes crinkle as he smiles down at Bucky. "Yeah, I love you too," he says. 

 


End file.
